Secret of the Beast Spear
by Becky Tailweaver
Summary: While an evil youkai stalks them, Ushio and Tora stumble across the secrets surrounding the origin of the Beast Spear--with terrifying results! (AU, based only on the anime! Please be kind with reviews!)
1. Hungry Shadow

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ushio, Tora, or any of the other wonderful characters of the Ushio & Tora universe--they all belong to Kazuhiro Fujito himself. Original characters created here _do_ belong to me, so please don't take them without permission!)) 

_Author's Note: "Secret of the Beast Spear" is based **entirely** in the world of Ushio & Tora as introduced in the anime. So little was explained in the anime that I just had to begin to outline a story of my own, giving a new--if unorthodox--background to the Beast Spear and its lore. The manga is not yet translated and isn't readily available, and I was unable to learn the truth until long after I'd already begun this story. Little or no actual manga concepts are incorporated into this fanfic, so "Secret" can be considered an Alternate Universe continuation--my version of the hidden secrets within the ancient Beast Spear and how it was made. The story begins a couple months after the last episode of the anime._

  
  
  
**Secret of the Beast Spear**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Chapter 1: Hungry Shadow**

Morning had not yet even truly bloomed over Tokyo. The light was still faint, gray, and the air was heavy with the cool, soothing mist that blanketed the hills beyond the city. The soft wind was brisk and cold, yet gentle, carrying the odor of growth and life. The sweet scents of young plants, fresh water, and damp earth heralded the advance of spring. 

There was a cave in those hills, a den hidden securely yet near enough to be within sight of Tokyo. In the cool grayish light of early morning, something came forth from that cave, a soundless shadow amongst the forest foliage. 

It went slowly; its movements were stiff and weary but completely lacking in awkwardness, marked by a deliberate, ancient grace. Its steps were catlike and almost-fluid, silent, like an elderly tiger. Its color was so pale a whitish gray that it blended perfectly with the mist between the trees, making it near-invisible in the predawn gloom. It paced along some invisible path through the forest with the calm, unhurried air of one out for a morning stroll. 

Reaching the forest's edge, it stood quietly on the hillside looking down on the sleeping city below. As night's fog slowly crept away and dawn advanced by inches, more light framed the clearing and made the misty shadow visible. 

It was large, four-legged, furred, and vaguely feline, but there its resemblance to a tiger ended. Its tail was long yet bushy, as a wolf's, and though it had the hindquarters of a beast, its shoulders were built too much like a man's and its forelegs terminated in five-fingered hands rather than paws. It was thin, almost frail-looking, its fur rough and even sparse in places. Its face was lined and loose-jowled, almost bearded, apparently with great age; that given, it had probably been some other color in its younger days, with the faint gray stripes across its silvered back. Its shaggy mane was thinned with years, but the hairs were tipped with thunder-gray, revealing what shade they must have been long ago. 

The creature looked down over the city, but it didn't gaze at it for long. Nostrils set at the end of a grizzled muzzle flared, testing the air; rheumy yellow eyes that might once have been golden slid closed. Given its age, its eyes were probably good for little now anyway. 

The old beast took deep breaths, sniffing, reaching out with other senses than its eyes--and senses even beyond normal human reckoning. Its jaws parted slightly, revealing blunted, yellowed fangs that were missing a few of their breathren. A low creaky rumble came from deep within its chest. 

_A cool and beautiful dawn,_ it thought, soaking in the sensations that all of its senses brought it. _All is at peace...none are troubled. The locals are well, mortal and immortal alike. Sleep soundly, brothers and sisters..._

Something caught its attention; its head cocked slightly, ears and nostrils and othersight testing, before it slowly smiled. _Ah, there you are...out hunting again, are you, little Yin-Liao? And what prey...? Oh, you've finished your hunt, you have...good boy, good--another danger vanquished in the night. And where is your companion, eh, young one?_

The elder beast reached out, then chuckled softly to itself. _I see...the yearling cub hunts alone this dawn, does he? Good, good...a wise sensei you are, thunder-brother--teach him confidence, self-reliance. Let him run the trails by himself and make the kill on his own. You are a fine teacher, thunder-brother, though oft you do not wish to be. He watches you, he learns from you. See him run, see how he hunts! Each dawn he grows stronger._

It reached out to the little hunter again, watching fondly. _Run swift, hunt well, youngest half-brother. Test your skill, your courage. Such a brave, strong, **worthy** little one..._

The ancient creature suddenly started, a gasping breath sounding loud in the morning silence. Its nose flared wide and its ears pricked up fully straight, its body going tense and rigid. Even its near-useless eyes snapped open. It sent out again, further, trying to find the shadow it had glimpsed... 

And there it was, that dark thing. Something else was watching the young hunter--something black and sinister with a stench of evil about it that made the ancient observer's hackles bristle in hatred and distaste. It was far too close to the little hunter, watching with eyes alone--but its foul dark aura was quickly recognized. 

_**You**,_ the Old One realized, allowing his snarl to rumble forth. _So, you've returned from the Farthest West, you conniving Hungry Shadow. Have you eaten your fill of hellhounds, kelpies, and marlbeasts? You're following, stalking...why do you watch the little hunter? Why is your gaze so starved when your belly is already full from a night of slaughter? He is mortal; useless to **you** but for food in your stomach._

Pale, ancient eyes narrowed suspiciously. _Hnn...can it be that you plan to destroy him, to keep him from hunting you? Heh, you **cannot**. Such power is beyond even yours. It is certain death to face him; even you must know it, the way you skulk. So what are you plotting in that cunning cruel mind of yours? Greed, hunger, envy, hatred... Foolish shadow-demon...what do you think you will do with him?_

With a hoarse rumble, the Old One turned his attention back to the young hunter he'd been observing before. Those wise, fierce eyes softened, filled with care and concern. _Run swift, little Yin-Liao, and hunt with caution...the Demon Eye is watching you..._

* * * * *

_"He took great pains to hide his rank and always wore travel dress, and he did not allow her to see his face. He came late at night when everyone was asleep. She was frightened, as if he were an apparition from an old story. She did not need to see his face to know that he was a fine gentleman. But who might he be? Her suspicions turned to Koremitsu. It was that young gallant, surely, who had brought this strange visitor. But Koremitsu pursued his own little affairs unremittingly, careful to feign indifference to and ignorance of this other affair. What could it all mean? The lady was lost in unfamiliar speculations..."_

Removing one of his hands from where it braced his chin, Tora delicately turned the page using the tip of one talon. Smoothing the thin paper down with one finger, he put his chin back in his hand and continued to read. 

It was early morning, and the sun was well up enough for even a human to be reading in its light. Tora lay stretched out on his stomach on the Aotsuki Shrine roof, his book propped against a stone on the beam in front of him. 

The front gate clattered, then creaked open. Ushio Aotsuki stumbled in, shedding muddy long black hair as he went. He was looking weary and disgruntled, the Beast Spear braced heavily against one shoulder. 

"About time you got back, Brat," Tora rumbled, not even looking up from his reading as Ushio passed the Shrine on his way to the house. "Took you long enough." 

"Shut up," the young boy snapped, glaring up at the roof and its occupant. "You were no help. I was chasing that super-sonic slug across half the district all night. It would've been handy to be _flying_." 

"Wouldn't it?" Tora replied boredly. 

Ushio's face pinched in frustration. "Dammit, Tora! How the hell was I supposed to know I couldn't _stab_ him? The bastard was made of Jell-O or something! You just said, 'Hey Brat, there's a monster sucking people's brains out near the train station.' Well, thanks for no information!" 

"I said more than _that_." Tora gingerly turned another page, careful to avoid tearing holes in the paper with his claws. Reading books while posessing talons was almost an _art form_; one had to be coordinated. "You're smart, aren't you? I thought you'd figure it out." 

"Brain-dead bakemono," Ushio muttered. "And you've _still_ got your nose in that book." 

Tora ignored him, so Ushio stuck his tongue out in the monster's direction and stomped into the house. 

He kicked off his shoes and trudged up the hall--then spotted a clock. "Aw...crap. Only a couple more hours 'til school..." he groaned, dragging himself upstairs; at this point in the morning his father was likely to still be snoring into his pillow, so at least the old man wouldn't catch him awake and go off on one of his "since-you're-up-anyway-here-do-this" chore lists. 

In his room, Ushio set the Beast Spear against the wall. With a sigh, he pulled off his sweaty shirt and kicked off his mud-coated jeans. He'd need a shower--he had mud, monster slime, and his own perspiration all over him--but he was dead tired, and the shower could wait. With a yawn, he threw himself facedown on his futon. 

Ahhh, his pillow felt heavenly! He'd stayed in Spearbearer form all the way home, using his alter-ego's enhanced speed and endurance to get home quickly without collapsing from lack of sleep. But once he'd arrived, becoming himself again had been like letting all the air out of a balloon--he was limp and tired and couldn't wait to flop into bed. 

Stupid monster. If the damn thing had just stood still and let itself be fried, he would have been asleep hours ago--and he'd be able to survive school today. But that slimy little bakemono had oozed and darted around the neighborhood, hiding in gutters, rain-barrels, trash cans, or ditches. It was barely waist high, and deceptively harmless-looking; just a grayish-green blob of phlegm--that could pop up, engulf your head, and literally suck your brains out before you knew what had slimed you. It was _fast_. 

It moved faster the more damp the ground got, too--hence the mud. It had led him on a merry chase along one of the local construction sites, and Ushio had ended up on his butt in the grime more times than he'd really wanted to. Having more than a yard of mud-gobbed hair hanging off his head had only gotten him dirtier, but he'd had to press on--if he let up on the slimy bakemono, it would just slither off and grab another victim for a recharge. 

Stabbing the little booger did no good, either. Amoeba-like, it just put itself back together when he slashed it and flowed around the Spearpoint when he jabbed it. He had to use _power_ to destroy the thing--Tora's lightning would have been handy. By the time he'd figured out how to get the Spear to stab _and_ fry at the same time--without knocking out nearby windows and cracking the sidewalk in the process--they'd reached that wonderful construction site and Ushio'd had to corner the slippery creature before he could fricassee it. Later on, some worker was going to be scratching his head about the giant lump of coal with a hole in it sitting in the cab of one of the big cranes. 

Ushio winced, remembering the damage done to the innocent machine in the process of the hunt. Bad enough it had received a couple of Spear-marks in its metal skin as he'd chased the booger into the cab, but he'd damn near torn the door off its hinges in his hurry to get at the thing. The upholstery was shot, too, what with the leftover phlegm and the Spear's powerful discharge. At least he'd been able to keep from blowing up the whole crane; the Spear seemed to want to go a little overboard at times. 

He was glad no one knew Ushio Aotsuki was causing such property damage; he could never pay for it all. They'd probably just write it off as another of the weird paranormal-type things that had been happening pretty often around these parts. Ever since he'd picked up the Spear, of course... 

He felt rather proud of himself though, despite everything. He'd gone out without Tora tagging along, "coaching" him--more like nagging him--through a hunt. And he _had_ figured out how to kill the slimeball, just as Tora had mentioned. Tora'd been too busy reading to come along, obviously having more fun than a hunt would bring. "_The Tale of Genji_" no less...ugh, _dry_ stuff. How the bakemono could stand to read such boring nonsense was beyond him... 

Somewhere in his thought processes, Ushio must have dozed off. The next thing he knew, his father was rolling him out of bed with a rough hand and a loud voice, ranting something about...breakfast and...he was late for school...? 

"Aw, _crap!_" Once that thought sank clearly into his brain, Ushio threw himself out of his futon and was careening down the hall toward the bathroom before the rest of him was even fully awake. He almost bowled over the senior Aotsuki in the process. 

"Slow down, boy!" Shigure called after him. "You won't make it if you break your neck on the stairs!" 

Ushio couldn't hear him; he was already in the shower, scrubbing hard. "Dammit, dammit, dammit..." he muttered in a little litany. "Dammit, stupid slimeball...dammit, dammit..._stupid_ Tora...dammit...!" 

After what was possibly the fastest shower in the history of mankind, Ushio sprinted back to his room to get dressed--ack, he'd forgotten to wash his uniform, but no time now--wrapping up and snatching the Beast Spear and catching his bookbag from his dresser. He took the stairs three at a time--almost getting the Spear caught in the railing in the process--yanked on his shoes, and all but fell out the door. His father met him on the front step, a breakfast roll held out in one hand; Ushio snatched it with a quick "ThanksI'mlatesorrybye!" on his way through. 

"Have a good day, boy," Shigure said, but Ushio was already out of earshot. 

As he raced across the yard, Ushio caught sight of Tora on the roof, still reading. As he tore through the gate and off down the road, irreparably late, he thought sourly to himself--not for the first time--that it would be really nice if he could fly. 

* * * * *

About half an hour after Ushio left, Tora looked up from his book, frowning. 

He just..._felt_ something. 

No scent, no sight, just a trace of something _foul_. Like catching a whiff of supernatural rotten meat when a faint breeze blows your way from a butchery's dumpster. 

Such an aura usually accompanied monsters of the very _worst_ sort; he'd have to check up on this to confirm his suspicions. Tora wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes, carefully closing his book--after marking his place with a piece of dry grass. Leaving the book tucked under the Shrine's eaves, he floated out in the direction the sense seemed strongest. 

It led toward the city, and it had passed quite recently. As Tora drew closer, his nose began to pick up _something_ as well. What began to disturb him was that the strange thing--whatever it was he was tracking--was following the very same scent-trail that Ushio had left behind on his hurried way to school. 

* * * * *

Ushio was a complete wreck at school. 

Aside from sleeping through the first two periods--and getting in trouble for it, as well--he all but botched the pop quiz in the third because he could barely keep his eyes open. Asako Nakamura scolded him unmercifully between classes, demanding to know what he'd been up to and why on Earth he was even more idiotic than he usually was. 

All he could tell her was that he'd had a rough night and hadn't slept. He couldn't very well inform her that he'd been chasing a bakemono booger instead of sleeping. 

Lunch period was thankfully a mercy. He was able to talk quietly with his only human ally, Mayuko Inoue, and tell her the whole truth. Once she understood, Mayuko helped keep Asako distracted so that Ushio could snore through lunch. With Mayuko running interference, at least Asako was less likely to get any more irritated with him; Mayuko was one of those people it was almost impossible to get angry at. 

It came as a surprise, however, that it was the Beast Spear that woke him up at the end of lunch, instead of Asako--who would probably have done it with the flat side of her lunch box. He was snoring peacefully when the mind-piercing, deep-toned, ringing thrum echoed through his head. It was almost painfully loud, and so sudden that he lurched out of his seat with a sharp yelp even before he was fully awake. 

As the Spear's warning tone faded, Ushio blinked awake from his desk-top nap, staring at the shrouded weapon in puzzlement. A foe to fight? Here at school? 

He glanced around, but the Spear gave him no clues as to what the threat was or where it came from. Its cautionary wake-up call simply vanished, leaving him with a slightly tense feeling that he didn't like at all. He caught Mayuko's eye, caught her quierying look--_Did something happen?_--and frowned with a faint nod. 

There were no further warnings from the Spear, however. It remained silent, and when the bell rang for the end of lunch, he had to sit down and resume class with everyone else. The Spear's convenient little alarm had woken him up so abruptly that he still had adrenaline swirling through his muscles, leaving him quite awake and aware for the next few periods. 

Despite the Spear's apparent quiescence, he just _knew_ this didn't bode well. He was probably going to have to go hunting again tonight. 

* * * * *

The sun was quite high in the sky by the time Tora found himself in the vicinity of Ushio's school. Tailing the strange creature had proved problematic; at times its scent seemed to completely disappear, and until he realized that it was solely following Ushio, he had wasted a lot of time circling to find trace of it again. 

It was the _strangest_ thing he'd ever tracked. 

It seemed to have a scent...but then again, it didn't. It was almost a weird sort of...not-smell. He couldn't even catch the odor of an actual bakemono, which should have been easy to find under these circumstances. 

Instead, he found himself following a strange conglomeration of scents that made up the not-smell. They seemed to be normal scents, almost unnoticeable, but they just didn't _belong here_. The smells of tar, of black oak pitch, of fog, of cold earth, of dark marsh water, of cave rocks, of charcoal, of night air... 

Odd _not-smells_, more like ambient sensations than actual odors. Such things would usually be found filling up certain _places_...not tracking in a path following Ushio Aotsuki to school. 

Strange indeed. 

_All right, you weird bastard,_ Tora thought to himself with a rumble as he paced along, head low as he tracked the thing. _What are you after the Brat for? He's **my** meal--don't think you can just waltz right into my territory and start snacking._

The trace of the thing he followed suddenly diverged from Ushio's trail. 

When he looked up again, Ushio's school was just across the street. Apparently, the strange creature hadn't followed the Brat straight into the gates. Narrowing his eyes, Tora carefully continued to tail it around the back of the school grounds, near the wooded area. 

Near the condemned, half-destroyed old school building where he and Ushio had faced down Ishikui the Stone-Eater, the Evil Chameleon. 

Tora's nose wrinkled as he paced invisibly alongside the wrecked building. Ishikui had not been a weak bakemono; it was old and powerful, and its death had left a strong mark in this place even after so many months. A certain darkness remained here, and would for a time...and Tora could almost _sense_ the thing he was following--it was nearby. 

Within another stinking bakemono's aura is the perfect place for a foul thing to hide. The remnants of Ishikui's dark, perverted aura of stone and torture and fear and death was a fine concealment for another beast of...similar inclinations. 

_I know you're here, you skulking coward._ Tora went on full-alert as he approaced the shadows of the gaping hole in the building's midsection. _And I think **you** know I know you're here, too. So come on out here and face me..._

The place where Ishikui had once stood still remained..._tainted_, even though it was out in the sunny open area in the destroyed part of the building. It would take either years of time or a priest's blessing to restore the balance to this location. 

Tora's fur bristled as he passed beneath the crumbling roof, stepping toward the undamaged part of the structure. He paused, and realized that the thing he tracked had to be _right there_; he'd just gotten another whiff of its dark aura full in the face, making his nose wrinkle. It was positively foul to his senses--more of that rotten-flesh feeling, as if it was crawling with maggots--and the sensation made his skin prickle. 

Even Lord Nagatobimaru, at his very worst five hundred years ago, had not been so utterly _vile_. Tora took one step forward; his left forepaw brushed the shadows beneath the broken roof. 

What happened next happened so quickly that even Tora was unable to assemble it all until well after it had taken place. 

He just touched the shadows and they _moved_, coming to sickening life in front of him. The shadows--or was it just one particular shadow?--lurched upward, forward, as if peeling off of the wall and floor. It came at him, spreading and shapeless and black like an animated sheet of tar, its form shifting and writhing like the patterns on the surface of an oil slick. It was horrifying; it had no shape, no form, no vital points--it was just this shaded mass, with no dimension and all dimensions at once. 

Tora stumbled back half-frozen as it came at him. The shadow-thing flowed around him, surrounding him, _reaching_ for him--and its filthy aura choked him almost physically, almost made him gag. And there were maggots in it; some kind of things--wriggling struggling things--but it was more like they were writhing in torment inside it, trying to get _out_, instead of gleefully feeding and burrowing in as real maggots do. 

The thing was everywhere; the maggots, or creatures--he heard their _voices_ screaming--screaming and howling from within the shadow, more horribly than he'd ever heard--and was that _his_ voice too?--and the black living shadow pressed in--unholy terrifying _eyes_ in the dark and hunger, _hunger, **hunger**_... 

On panicked instinct alone, Tora let go with the biggest thunderbolt he'd ever produced in his life. Blue-white light exploded around him in a crackling flash that lit the entire scene and turned the oil-slick shadow into a sharply-defined black _thing_. It seemed to boil in the light, seared by his power, and recoiled with the most sickening, horrid noise he'd ever heard. 

With a rush of that putrid aura and a brush of black along his sides like the touch of the Reaper, the shadow-thing flowed away from him and whipped past him, heading out into the woods. In the shadows of the trees, it merged and vanished like a ghost, leaving Tora panting in the ruins of the building. 

A mere couple of seconds had passed. 

Tora stood motionless, chest heaving, still frozen in shock in a way he hadn't been since he was very young. He stared at the trees, at the place where that awful _thing_ had gone, his eyes wide and fierce as lightning continued to crackle around his forehead. 

"_What_...in all the unholy hells..was _that...?_" he finally rasped. 

Right then and there, Tora decided that he _hated_ the shadow-thing. It was rare that he actually hated an enemy; most bakemono were quite matter-of-fact about fights and such, so hatred rarely became involved. But this...this foul putrid _thing_...it had attacked him on his own territory--and worse, it had actually _frightened_ him. 

Tora would never admit it to anyone, but for the moment the shadow-thing had had him in its clutches, he had been _terrified_. For a single instant, he was frozen with the fear that he was just about to die--or worse, become one of those struggling screaming things inside the shadow. Those pitiful wraiths inside...were living things of some sort. Trapped--devoured by the shadow... 

That..._thing_...was hungry. He had sensed it as it came at him--an all-encompassing hunger, a ravenous desire to _consume_ that had nothing to do with meat or stomach. It wanted..._power_. 

_...unholy terrifying **eyes** in the dark..._

The shadow-thing's eyes had been the most horrible of all. The eyes were the only part of the creature he'd recognized--the rest was nothing but oily, shifting shadow. It had red eyes, dark red; not sign-red or brick-red or oni-eye-red--but a sickening heavy red the color of seeping blood, of old blood, of blood that flows from a mortal wound, thick with damaged life. Just like that thing... 

_Damaged_. Sick. Putrid. Vile beyond all hope of redemption. 

Tora shuddered involuntarily, almost hastily leaving the broken building. The shadow-thing's not-stench still remained, making his hackles bristle. He had never seen or sensed anything like that weird shadow, not in all his many centuries--and he felt no pressing inclination to follow that foul thing any further. It had come so close--_too_ close--to getting him...which was not an experience he'd like to repeat. 

Every once in a rare while, Tora acknowledged that he'd need some assistance to defeat a particular foe. Now was one of those times. Ushio's Beast Spear would come in handy for defeating something that foul--something that Tora wasn't sure if he should attack, or even touch. 

Not even Lord Nagatobimaru had ever been been so completely _evil_. 

  
_To be continued..._

  
  
_Note from Becky: I just **have** to give a big thank you to my very best author-friend Ysabet, the Goddess of Ushio & Tora Fanfiction herself, who was a major help and inspiration for me during my first attempts at venturing into U&T fandom. A fount of wisdom, a forgiving reviewer, a wonderful sounding board, and all-around friendly ear. It was her faith in me that gave me the courage to post "Secret of the Beast Spear" for the very first time! _

**Thank You, Ysabet! ^_^__**

Now go read her fanfiction. That's a polite command! 

  



	2. Something Wicked This Way Comes

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ushio, Tora, or any of the other wonderful characters of the Ushio & Tora universe--they all belong to Kazuhiro Fujito himself. Original characters created here _do_ belong to me, so please don't take them without permission!)) 

  
  
  
**Secret of the Beast Spear**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Chapter 2: Something Wicked This Way Comes**

The Beast Spear's sudden sonorous shriek of alarm, followed instantly by the thundering explosion nearby, served nearly to knock Ushio out of his desk chair from surprise. As it was, he leaped to his feet as one with the rest of the class, adrenaline surging anew through his muscles. While the other students milled and pressed themselves to the windows trying to see what had happened, Ushio grabbed the Spear and darted out in the commotion, not heeding Mayuko's call nor Asako's irate demand to know where he was going. 

The circumstances were eerily similar to another time--the previous explosion in the old school building was still fresh enough in people's memories that teachers were too absorbed in their own speculations to notice that Ushio had slipped out. 

Ushio didn't have to wonder _where_; the Spear had already indicated that. He sprinted until his muscles burned, tearing through the hallways and across the yard, heading straight for the rickety old building that still lay unrepaired, still broken in half from the devastating battle with Ishikui. 

He pulled to a stop just outside the ruin, noting the newly-charred ground, the fresh little flickers of dying flame on the broken timbers, and the sharp scent of ozone in the air. This had been the work of a beast that threw lightning...and the only one that Ushio knew of happened to live at his own house. 

But what had made Tora let off with such a blast in broad daylight in the middle of the schoolyard? Ishikui was a legitimate excuse last time...but now, where was the enemy? 

"Tora?" he called into the cool, still air. "Tora! I know you're here!" 

"Shut up, Brat," the bakemono's voice rumbled from behind the building's far wall. "Those human girls are coming." 

Frowning, Ushio stepped forward, through the charred rubble, coming around the corner of the broken wall. Tora crouched there, looking grim and threatening and quite...bristly. "What happened here?" the boy asked. 

Tora just scowled at him, eyes narrowed and dangerous. "Shut up. Something came. I--" 

He broke off as Asako's voice called out from the direction Ushio had come. Mayuko in tow, the girl jogged up to the broken building, glaring at Ushio with her hands to her hips. 

"What's the matter with you, running out of class like that?" she demanded, stepping carefully through the scattered timbers on the ground. "This place is dangerous! And you just went tearing off in the middle of that explosion!" 

Ushio whirled on her, frustrated at her interruption. "If it's so dangerous, why are _you_ here?" 

Asako didn't back down. In fact, she didn't even bat an eye. "Baka! Because you're such a blockhead and I'd end up the one explaining it to your dad if you got yourself hurt!" 

"I don't need a babysitter--especially not you! I can take care of myself!" 

Mayuko waved her hands, trying to push between the two combatants, trying to defuse the fight. "Now, come on, I'm sure it was just a fluke. Right, Ushio? Maybe something just collapsed in this old building." She glanced at Tora, but couldn't say anything in Asako's presence. "In fact, it's probably dangerous to stay here...why don't we all head back inside and relax?" 

Ushio and Asako continued to glare at each other for a while, until Ushio finally snorted and turned away. "Fine! Whatever. Just don't go following me around, got it?" 

"Don't worry! Next time you run off into something potentially dangerous, I'll be happy to let you go!" Frustrated, Asako stomped off in a huff. Mayuko spared Ushio an apologetic glance before following her friend. 

Ushio watched them go, still frowning. But when he turned to resume his questioning of Tora, he discovered the bakemono had already gone as well. Angered, he spat a brief curse before heading back toward the school. There was nothing for it; he'd just have to wait until he got home to find out what had happened. 

* * * * *

"Jeeze...! That baka just gets worse every time I see him!" Irritated, Asako kicked sullenly at a pebble on the sidewalk, watching it bounce and skitter down the concrete. 

Mayuko walked at her side, silent as they headed home, a gentle listening ear as usual. She couldn't really say anything at this point without it being an outright lie, and she wasn't exactly comfortable with that idea. She'd thought from the beginning that it wasn't a good idea for Ushio to keep such an important secret from his lifelong best friend, but he wouldn't listen to her. 

"What's the _matter_ with him?" Asako went on, well into a temperamental rant. "He's getting weirder and weirder lately! He's always asleep in school, he's never home when I visit, he never _talks_ to me any more--and when he does he's either teasing or fighting or just so preoccupied he doesn't hear a word I say! I just don't get it! He is _such a jerk!_" Another pebble flew across the sidewalk. 

"Now, now," Mayuko offered hesitantly, trying as always to defuse her friend's volatile temper. "Aotsuki-kun just has a lot on his mind..." 

"Like _what?_" Asako demanded. "How can an empty-headed idiot like him have 'a lot on his mind?' And what's he trying to pull, anyway? 'Something just fell down' in that old school building...hmph! It sounded more like a gas main blew!" 

"I'm sure he was just trying to keep you from worrying," Mayuko tried diplomatically, knowing that Tora was probably the one who blew, and probably because of a dangerous monster. No wonder Aotsuki-kun hadn't wanted them to hang around. 

"Why would I worry about _him?_" the fiery girl huffed, turning up her nose. "He's such a stupid baka!" 

With a hidden smile, Mayuko shook her head and followed her friend; sometimes there was just no pleasing Asako where Aotsuki-kun was concerned. Those two were so _stubborn_ sometimes... 

* * * * *

Also in a fine mood that afternoon was Ushio Aotsuki, the object of Asako's irritation. He stomped through the front gates of the Aotsuki Shrine fully intent on his mission--to corner a certain slippery orange bakemono and wring some details out of him. After a quick stop by the house to drop off his bookbag and check around for his father--who was conspicuously absent yet _again_--he headed off to search for his target, calling loudly. 

Tora turned up absent in all of his usual spots, such as the Shrine roof, the shady corner in the back yard, the kitchen, or the TV room. He didn't answer Ushio's calls, either--and though he'd never admit it aloud, the boy began to grow just a little bit nervous. Tora would usually have either appeared or snarled at him to shut up by now. 

Growing concerned, Ushio began to turn to unusual places, including the old shrine outside the gates. Still no sign of Tora--and at this point, the youth was growing more than just concerned. He was starting to _worry_. 

He ended up standing in the middle of the yard, Beast Spear clutched tight in his hands, shouting out Tora's name to the surrounding countryside. Half-prepared to charge off back to the school and look there, he nearly started to transform out of sheer anxiety--when a gruff, irate voice suddenly called out to him from the walltop near his house. 

"Brat! Why the hell are you out here making so much noise?" 

"Tora!" The knot of tension that had been building in his stomach abruptly released and drained away, taking with it the pressing urges from the Spear. He whirled to face the bakemono, hiding his relief with anger. "Where have you _been?_ I've been looking all over for you! What the hell happened back there at the school?" 

The bakemono snorted, drifting down from the top of the wall. "Just some skulking bastard I tracked there. He tried to take me on, but fled when he witnessed my power." By all appearances nonchalant, Tora examined the back of one paw in careless indifference. 

"Is that all?" Ushio blinked and gaped for a second, disbelieving. "I _saw_ you back there--you looked like you'd seen a--" 

"_Feh!_" Tora grunted, sitting down. "Slimy sleazeball...he had an awful stink about him. Probably been eating dozens of humans. I'd rather not dirty my claws on such a filthy bastard; you can have him--it's not worth my time." 

Ushio shouldered the Spear, eyes narrowing. "That's it? You're just handing it to me after what you did at the schoolyard today? What the hell's the matter with you?" 

The orange bakemono bared his teeth, turning to stride away. "_Che!_ That thing's stench turned my stomach, that's all. I'm sure you can handle it, with your weak nose. He's headed in this direction from the schoolyard, but he's staying near the town." 

Ushio rolled his eyes, glaring after the departing monster. "Great. Just _great_. I get to go chase _another_ booger around all night, by myself. You're getting _lazy_, you fat fuzzball!" he shouted after him, as Tora headed toward the Shrine. 

The bakemono merely snorted at him again, barely tossing a glance back. "What's the matter, Brat? Do you need me to hold your hand?" 

_That_ brought a snarl out of the boy. "Jackass! I can handle it by myself just fine! I'll show you--I'll bring that thing's head back on the end of the Beast Spear! Just you watch!" With that, Ushio turned and marched toward the gate, his weapon clutched tight. 

"Brat!" 

"_What?_" He cranked around, annoyed, glaring at the bakemono that had half-turned to regard him with eyes that were startlingly serious. Tora's gaze gave him pause, halting his irritation long enough for the bakemono to speak. 

"A word of advice, Brat," Tora said, his voice low and stern. "Don't let him touch you." 

As Ushio blinked in brief confusion, Tora turned away and continued his stride up the Shrine steps, disappearing into the building. The youth remained there for several seconds, puzzled, before he too turned back on his way, out the gate, heading for the edge of the city. 

* * * * *

Many long and fruitless hours of searching saw him to the beginning of night, the stars starting to glow and a brush of orange-violet on the western horizon. Still, he walked the streets, the shrouded Spear resting on his shoulder; he listened to it carefully, waiting for any sign of the enemy. Thus far there was none--not even a tingle of danger. It was as if the thing he sought just didn't exist. 

Perhaps Tora had been wrong... 

Ushio frowned, sighing wearily as he turned up yet another side street, eyes, ears, and senses open. It was dark now--the perfect time for any monster attacks--yet he didn't get even so much as a faint vibration from the Spear. 

"Dammit...maybe I should just go home and get some sleep for once..." he muttered to himself in disgust. It would be nice to stay awake during school; keeping the hours that he had, fighting bakemono at random times, he was spending less and less time asleep at night. If this kept up, he'd be completely nocturnal. 

It had been so quiet all evening that he actually _jumped_ when the Spear hummed. 

So soft, so faint it was barely a feeling at all, the Beast Spear sang out at last, its usual thrum muted to a whisper. "What the...?" Suddenly charged with adrenaline, Ushio came alert in a heartbeat, eyes scanning the dimly-lit street for a threat but finding none. All was still, and the street was filled with hollow silence. 

Utter, echoing _silence_. 

There were _no_ sounds. No cricket chirped, no dog barked, no stray cat yowled--there weren't even any moths fluttering around the flickering street lamps. The only noise was a faint, regular dripping from a gutter somewhere...and his own breaths, suddenly loud in the unbearable stillness. Even the Spear's hum had faded to a lingering, constant pulsation--warning of danger nearby, unknown and intangible but there nonetheless. Something even the ancient weapon couldn't pinpoint... 

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up at that thought. Suddenly it seemed as if something was _watching_ him--something invisible and malevolent. Silent and still, he barely turned his head to scan the street, the sidewalk, the buildings across from him... 

The Spear's vibration leaped to a sudden loud _thrum_ inside his head, brief like a woman's startled shriek, like a child's scream of surprise. On some instinct Ushio whirled, eyes fixing on the darkened alley opening just a few meters down the street--a black passage that was a _perfect_ hiding place for any vicious beast that was out to get him. 

Something, he felt from the Spear's tremors, had just _moved_. 

His throat suddenly very dry, he gulped, hands tightening on the Beast Spear's haft. It was still wrapped in its shroud, but that could be pulled aside in an instant; hesitant and wary, he stepped forward, his gaze locked on the dark passage as he advanced step by step, pausing every so often to listen. 

He jumped a meter backwards when the Spear shrieked again. 

Heart pounding anew, chest heaving, he swallowed hard again and prepared to pull the sheet away from the Spear. As he approached the alleyway, he moved aside to press himself against the wall near the corner, the edge of the shroud gripped tight in one hand--gripped, and pulling, as he prepared to advance around the corner and deal with whatever was in there... 

"Boy! What on Earth are you doing out here?" 

The voice--totally unexpected and echoingly loud in the silence--made him jump even higher than the Beast Spear's warnings. With an involuntary yelp he jerked around, platter-wide eyes catching sight of his own father less than two meters away. He was so badly startled that he almost dropped the Spear, the gruff voice both scaring the daylights out of him _and_ making him feel like a child caught in the cookie jar. 

"Oyaji--!" Shaking with adrenaline, he gaped at the older man in shocked surprise. 

Shigure Aotsuki strode the rest of the way over to him, glaring sternly. "I asked you a question, boy--what are you doing out here this late?" 

Ushio's mouth worked for a moment, stuttering, until his brain finally engaged once again. "I...I just...I heard something in that alley so I--" 

"Never mind." Shigure shook his head and waved a hand, cutting the youth off. "Get yourself back home--it's past dinnertime and I had no idea where you were!" 

Ushio's jaw dropped; he was once again so startled he couldn't speak. _Since when have you ever **cared?**_ his mind demanded, though the words didn't make it to his mouth; anger began to grow through his surprise. _And what the hell are you doing out here looking for me, anyway?_

"What are you waiting for? Get moving!" 

Ushio's eyes flashed with sudden hostility--resentment at his father's interference with his hunt, bitterness that the man heeded his activities _now_ when he had never cared a whit before. "Why the hell should I?" he demanded. "Mind your own damn business, Oyaji! I'll come home when I--!" 

Shigure's face hardened, becoming stone, a grim stare like Ushio had never seen. "Ushio. _**Go**_." 

Taken completely aback, the boy found himself retreating. So seldom did his father call him by his true name--he was usually addressed as "boy" or sometimes even "son." It meant that the man was utterly _serious_--that he would brook _no_ argument whatsoever...and somehow, it forced him to obey. With a startled gulp, Ushio complied, slipping beneath his father's severe gaze to dash away down the dim sidewalk. 

Shigure waited until his son was out of sight before he turned back to the alleyway. His eyes narrowed sharply as his fist tightened around the handful of ofuda in his pocket. For a long time he stared into the blackness within the passage, gaze hard as if seeing something his son could not. After several tense moments he at last turned and strode away, his hand still clutching the ofuda as he left the dark alley behind. 

* * * * *

"_Damn_ him!" 

Infuriated, Ushio all but threw the Beast Spear down against his bedroom wall, stomping over to throw himself down on his futon and stare vexedly at the ceiling. "Why _now?_" he demanded of no one in particular. "Why the hell does he care now? He didn't give a _damn_ what time I came home _last_ night!" 

Only then did he realize that Tora was perched outside his window, watching him. 

Ushio sat up, vindictive. "What do _you_ want, jerk?" 

Tora's face remained impassive. "Did you find him?" 

"I think so." Scowling, the boy turned away, shoulders hunched. "There was something real weird in an alley, but my dad showed up before I could see it." 

The bakemono rumbled, phasing through the wall to seat himself on the floor, taking up a substantial amount of space on that side of the room with his massive size and shaggy mane. "So you didn't fight him." 

"Who? The bakemono or my father?" Ushio snorted derisively. "Shit, I couldn't even stand up to an old man..." 

Tora continued to regard him, silver eyes narrowed to slits; the feeling made the spot between Ushio's shoulder blades itch, but he ignored the irritation, staring at the far wall. After a time, the bakemono rose from the floor in a faint rustle of fur, heading back out throught the window/wall into the night. 

Ushio turned then, frowning. "Where are you going?" 

"Out for a stroll," Tora growled tritely, giving no further answers as he lifted off the roof and flew away. 

Ushio jumped up, rushing to the window to call after the rapidly-disappearing shape in the distance. "Dammit, where are you going? Get back here! _Tora!_" More furious than before, the boy slammed his fist onto the windowsill. "I'm not just going to sit here and...!" 

He paused, something clicking in his mind. Eyes narrowing, he glanced at the Spear where it lay against the wall near his futon. He made his decision in that instant; snatching up the Beast Spear, he sat down against the wall near his bedroom door, listening to the sounds outside, waiting for his father to go to bed. 

Then no one would be in his way, and he could deal freely with that frightening, sneaky bastard lurking somewhere in the city. 

* * * * *

Tora's flight path took him to the hills outside the city, the higher ones further into the forests than the Brat's home--places that were even now still slightly wild, still unfrequented by humans. Places where bakemono might still live if they chose, those still fierce enough that they did not desire to live with humans in a human city, in human homes. 

He swooped low over one particular hillside, seeking out a rocky clearing just in view of the cityscape. He landed there silently, alert, pausing a moment to take in the changes that five centuries had wrought. The rocks were mossier, the trees larger, different, or gone. There were more brambles grown up in the clearing, but his eyes and his nose could still make out the faint path that led into the woods, uphill out of the open spot. 

His padding steps made not a sound as he advanced into the forest, quiet and fluid in the darkness like a tiger stalking through the jungle. He knew the route well despite the time that had passed and the changes in the woods; this place hadn't even crossed his mind until that afternoon, after he'd spent long hours contemplating his brush with disaster. 

He only hoped the one he sought was still alive; he had been old enough already--though still _quite_ strong--when Tora had been sealed away, and five hundred years was a long time for one so ancient. And even if time did not do the deed, other more powerful bakemono could, or a human monk or priestess--or even a common hunter if time had sapped enough strength. 

He suddenly found himself almost _worried_ that the one he was looking for was indeed dead and gone. There was no one else he knew of with the knowledge to answer his questions. The Old One he sought was perhaps the very last of an ancient generation--and there was no one else in Tora's memory who knew more about the world, about legends and magics and long-forgotten creatures. 

The path petered out at the edge of an open spot amidst tall, ancient trees; little brush grew in this place, though the canopy above was thick and dense to avert aerial detection. The ground ahead was clear of any tracks--and the cave was almost invisible amidst the small scrub-trees that grew near its mouth. But Tora knew well what to look for, despite the camouflage; without hesitation, he stepped slowly up to the entrance and peered in. The tunnel curved just enough, making it impossible to see the den beyond from the outside. 

He tested the air as he stepped inside, just far enough to look into the den, but the scent within the cave was cold--not centuries cold, but it was readily apparent that no one had passed this way for many hours, perhaps even a day. But at least it was reassuring to know that the one he sought was not decades gone; the Old One still dwelled here, even after five hundred years. For a few moments he just stood there, gazing into the silent den, remembering other times he'd visited this place--many times, long, _long_ ago, and it seemed that the lord of this cave had lived here _forever_... 

With a final glance around, Tora turned to leave the tunnel, striding to the sands outside once more. The dark forest beyond was still and peaceful, and once again filled with night sounds; the owls, bats, and insects had resumed their activities in his absence within the cave, undisturbed by far more dangerous nocturnal predators, like himself--and they would go silent again, fearful, when he emerged. 

Nothing was amiss. He paused there again, glancing back into the cave one more time, disappointed that he hadn't found the one he was looking for. He turned to leave-- 

--and spooked visibly, startled and snarling in surprise. The large gray shadow standing there across the sand seemed to have just _appeared_ there, as if it had teleported to that location in the brief moment his gaze had turned away. Not a sound, not a footpad, not a _breath_ to betray its presence--not even the crickets had silenced. The mist-colored shape was quite simply _there_. 

Tora caught himself gaping slightly at the silence, the abruptness of the gray figure's arrival, and closed his jaws in chagrin, guarding his expression once more. He was startled indeed, but relieved to have found the one he sought. 

The gray shadow padded forward, footfalls silent on the sand, features becoming clearer through the dimness. The movements were those of an old lion, stiff and arthritic while still graceful and dignified. 

For long moments the two regarded one another from a meter's distance, both taking in the changes five centuries had caused--and during those moments nothing was said, as Tora's face gradually grew stunned and the gray bakemono's lips slowly curved into a smile. 

"So..." spoke a soft, low, hoarse voice--a voice that creaked under the weight of centuries of wisdom, rasping like dried leaves...yet still rumbling with an inner strength, deep with aged gentleness. "Finally...you've come to see me. It has been a very long time, Nagatobimaru." 

  
_To be continued..._

  
  
_**AN:** Whew...this took a long time. And I don't think this'll be too regular of a thing--I just got bit by a writing bug in the midst of working on **Detective Conan** stuff. (DC fans, yes, I am still working on that!) I'll write on "Secret" as it comes to me, but I really want to finish "Relative Truth" first. Wish me luck! _

  



	3. Encounter

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ushio, Tora, or any of the other wonderful characters of the Ushio & Tora universe--they all belong to Kazuhiro Fujito himself. Original characters created here _do_ belong to me, so please don't take them without permission!)) 

  
  
  
**Secret of the Beast Spear**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Chapter 3: Encounter**

Tora stared at the grizzled gray face for a long time, taken aback. He honestly had not expected five centuries to have changed the old bakemono so much--but they had, washing more color from the thinning coat, robbing the once-bright eyes of their shimmering gleam, blunting fangs and claws that had still wielded Death easily long ago... The ancient beast had still seemed so strong five hundred years ago, but the passage of that time had added elderly frailness to a once-sturdy frame, bowing a tough, resilient old warrior into the thin, feeble-looking, half-blind creature that stood before him. 

The old bakemono's smile turned into a wry, weary grin. "Why so shocked, young thunder-brother? Have I really changed so much in five hundred years?" 

Still staring, Tora couldn't think of much to say in reply to that. _Yes!_ shouted his mind, shocked at how Time could ravage even such ageless creatures as they. But the ancient gray monster held such an honored place in his life that he could not speak so bitter a truth so bluntly. "You...you look well, Arashikumo." 

_Arashikumo_, the Stormcloud. Named so for his dark thundercloud color--now faded to pale misty gray. In his day, he was more revered and feared than Nagatobimaru--as mighty and fearsome as a thunderstorm, greater than any of their clan, famous the lands over. Tora could still remember the way he had been a thousand years ago, when Nagatobimaru was only a stripling cub--and Arashikumo had stood proud and strong, undefeated, invincible. Never becoming a Lord Holder or taking a vast territory despite his power, he had moved a lot--following the wind, he used to say--only claiming this particular cave as his home. He came and went, but when he was here, he was always watching the human villages in the valley below. 

Watching, he'd admitted once, because the wind that he followed often blew across that valley... 

Arashikumo snorted amusedly, a low heavy sound. "Do not lie, Nagatobimaru--it doesn't suit you. I look like a toothless, mangy old lion. I wander down to the creek pool for a drink fairly often, young one--the water is quite reflective." 

Abashed, Tora quickly closed his mouth. His last meeting with Arashikumo centuries ago had not gone well; he had flung all of Nagatobimaru's insolence and arrogance into the face of the older bakemono, not heeding his warnings and scoffing at his wisdom. 

It had cost him five centuries of imprisonment. 

"Come then, cub--_che_, not so much a cub now..." Arashikumo strode across the sand, limping only slightly on one hind leg. "Come inside and bed down for a while. You have questions." 

The elder stated it as if he knew it was fact, though Tora had said but a single sentence during their entire encounter. Still amazed, the orange bakemono followed the gray into the tunnel again, then to the den inside, where comfortable beds of dried leaves waited. The two stretched out comfortably in the homey darkness, Arashikumo lowering himself with aching dignity. For a while longer there was silence between them. 

"After all this time, you come to me at last," Arashikumo rasped, breaking the stillness. "Free after five hundred years under the Shrine, you do not think to see me until you desire something of me." 

Feeling rather chastened--an uncomfortable sensation for him--Tora glanced down. "We did not part on the best of terms, but I mean you no disrespect now." 

Arashikumo leaned back against the cave wall. "You were a fool," he stated bluntly. "I told you you could never overcome the Spearbearer. You are lucky to be alive to face me now." 

Silent, Tora remained still. The old gray monster had indeed cautioned him then--had told him to flee the territory for a couple of decades until the fuss died down and the human Spearbearer forgot about him. But Nagatobimaru was arrogant and prideful, confident that _no_ human could ever defeat him. He had refused to turn tail and abandon the vast territory he had fought and won, nor cease his self-indulgent consumption of human flesh. His meals had made him strong--perhaps stronger than Arashikumo then, he'd thought, because the ancient bakemono had not challenged him. 

He had only been given a pitying glance as the gray monster turned and strode away into the night. That was the last time he'd seen anyone besides that cursed Samurai for five hundred years. 

He _had_ been a fool. 

Young Nagatobimaru had spent the first century of his life idolizing the mighty gray bakemono. Arashikumo had settled in the valley once again before he was born, and stayed there for some time--becoming the hero of a young orange cub whose stripes had not yet even grown in. The ancient monster seemed to know everything, seemed so invincible, seemed to have lived forever...and then, to Nagatobimaru's disappointment, the gray bakemono had left again, following the wind--as he had many times before, according to the elders of the clan. The latter half of Nagatobimaru's second century had been spent trying to be as powerful as the Stormcloud, wandering from his clan, fighting and exploring his way across Japan and even parts of China. 

He had reached his full size and was still growing in strength when he returned from his travels and wrested control of a sizeable territory from its previous Holder, continuously expanding his borders until his lands spread further than he cared to fly in a day. His clan, living further to the north of the great valley, had been mostly ignored then--and he had begun to revel in his power, in the taste of flesh as he enjoyed the priveleges of dining on his many human "cattle" across his vast territory. For decades--centuries--he rode the clouds wreathed in thunder, becoming a horrific nightmare in human legends. 

And then, five hundred years ago, Arashikumo had suddenly returned to his cave on the mountain above the valley, and that very night--looking wearier and weaker than Nagatobimaru remembered--confronted him with the fact that a mighty human warrior wielding the legendary Beast Spear had come that day to slay him. 

Powerful, arrogant, and scornful, Nagatobimaru had sneered at the elder's advice and faced the Spearbearer without hesitation on the next dawn--only to find himself fought to a standstill by a human that wasn't _human_, challenged by a weapon he could not overcome, and after five exhausting days pinioned to a stone like an insignificant butterfly pinned to paper. And then the humans had shut him away like a bug in a box, like a corpse in a grave...though he was still alive and screaming in defiance, then desperation, for days and days and days, abandoned and ignored in that cold, infernal darkness... 

Until he was freed at last by a wide-eyed, scared/angry man-child who carried the blood of his would-be executioner from long ago...a boy who hit him, fought with him, ate with him, hunted with him, ran with him... 

When he looked up again, Tora saw that Arashikumo's eyes were full of memory as well, watching him. He knew that, when he was an eager, innocent young cub, the old bakemono had regarded him fondly--and the remembered disappointment in his elder's gaze that night five centuries ago stung far more now than it had then. What made things so different? 

"You have paid for your error in judgement," Arashikumo stated at length, voice low. "Your mistakes were made five hundred years ago, a long time even for us...I bear you no ill will for your defiance, young one--your life is your own, and you make your own choices." 

"I should have heeded you," Tora admitted by way of apology, though he always hated to acknowledge his own mistakes. 

"Perhaps," the old one rumbled. "Would you be the same bakemono you are now if you had taken my advice? Who knows? Things might have gone very differently in the flow of time..." 

Tora paused for a moment, relieved at the bestowal of forgiveness, before he hazarded to speak again. "I've come to you now for information." 

Arashikumo's gaze sharpened abruptly, his eyes flicking back to Tora's, his voice suddenly grim. "The Hungry Shadow is in your city--you've seen it. So you come to ask me--" 

"Who is it?" Tora blurted. "_What_ is it? I've not seen its like in all my life. It's..." 

"It is a dark thing," the old beast rumbled quietly. "A very evil thing. Not so very old, mind you...I have watched him come and go for a time...but his kind are few, and most are dead or sleeping now. So long ago the last one came...even I was young then." 

Tora growled softly. "How do I kill it?" 

"Kill it?" Arashikumo snorted. "That is a hard thing. The Shadow is a youkai--mortal, so I know he can die, but I cannot say exactly how. He is amorphous, shapeless--he moves like water over the ground when he wishes. Yet he has many shapes, and can choose from any that he takes. He is vile and devouring--a soul-taker, a render of lives." 

"'Soul-taker?'" Tora leaned forward, intent, a sudden sense of foreboding filling him. 

"Different from an eater of souls," Arashikumo told him, eyes narrowing. "Beware, young one, for perhaps this Shadow is worse than such. 'Tis one thing to be slain, with your soul gone beyond--'tis another to be stricken by a soul-eater, and become nothing but a memory. But to become the prey of the Shadow is to become enslaved in eternal torment--always dying, but never dead; always being consumed, but never gone." 

Tora's eyes went wide in sudden dread. Those _things_ he'd seen/felt within the Shadow...! 

"You begin to understand," the old one went on, nodding slightly. "The Shadow devours other monsters, and their souls become his power, their forms his strength. Humans are useless to him--meat for his belly, nothing more. He cannot trap their souls--they are too bright for his darkness. It is _our_ lives which feed him, our shadowed souls that sustain him. But his hunger is all-consuming--it drives him mad, for he is never satisfied. He devours more and more, forever craving." 

"I came very close today..." the orange bakemono rumbled, barely audible. 

"I was watching him," Arashikumo said, shifting position on the leaves. "Were it not for the power of your thunderbolt taking him by surprise, and the brightness of the sun weakening his shadow-strength, you would be _his_ now. And he would use you for his own ends, turning you against the little hunter you watch over." 

"This thing has that power?" 

Arashikumo let out a coughing, thrumming growl. "An evil, _evil_ power--few creatures have ever had such. There are two ways he can take you; he might posess your shadow and make you his puppet for a time, while you watch through your own eyes as your own claws rend and destroy your allies--a temporary control, but effective. But if you are devoured, your body and soul become his forever; you hate him and love him, loathe him and adore him--your own mind becomes twisted to his dark desires, and obeying his every command becomes your passion, goaded by the promise of relief from your suffering." The ancient bakemono's eyes grew distant, painful. "In the passage of time, when you can no longer remember freedom...after you have suffered beyond hope in agonizing darkness...he becomes your god." 

The orange bakemono gaped in something like horror; he had never in his life heard of such a demon--something so hideously, utterly evil. In his own existence he had devoured countless humans and even slain other bakemono, but never, _never_ had he considered such malevolent acts as this. "How do I defeat such a thing?" he asked at length, a mere whisper. 

Arashikumo's eyes narrowed to slits. "I do not know that you _can_, Nagatobimaru. Perhaps the little hunter is the only one..." 

"The Brat?" Tora's eyes narrowed as well, a predatory smile spreading across his features. "Yes!" he hissed. "That damned Spear can rip and ruin that Shadow bastard--" 

"Perhaps." 

Tora's head jerked up. "'_Perhaps?_'" 

"The Shadow has been stalking the little hunter--last night, today, this evening. I have been watching." Arashikumo leaned foward with a grunt, his gaze grim. "I cannot fathom what he seeks, for little Yin-Liao is a human child. The Shadow fears the Spear, but still he follows..." 

The orange bakemono growled. "So he was after the Brat? What the hell--? 

"I do not know. A human soul is useless to him..." Arashikumo took a breath, hesitating. "Perhaps--only _perhaps_, mind you--the Beast Spear has darkened the little hunter's soul enough that the Shadow believes he can claim it--" 

Tora's snarl split the still air of the cave. 

Arashikumo merely regarded him, unmoved. "You may not understand, Nagatobimaru...but there is great darkness in the Spear. _Great_ darkness..." 

"Impossible!" Tora spat in disbelief, so incredulous that he babbled carelessly. "Nothing can defeat that shit of a Spear--_nothing!_ Not that Shadow bastard--not even me! Not even _you--!_" 

Arashikumo actually smiled regretfully. "Fifteen hundred years ago--perhaps even a thousand--I _could_ have defeated the Spearbearer," he broke in, drawing a shocked gape from Tora. "Make no mistake, young one--though I would have died for the effort, I could have slain the Spearbearer...though his offspring would quickly have taken his place." 

Unbelieving, Tora stared at him. "Destroy...the Spear...?" 

Arashikumo shook his head. "No...the Beast Spear itself can never be destroyed, but it is not the weapon which must be defeated--it is the human who wields it. With its seal, the Beast Spear can only grant its Bearer so much power--and it can only change him that much. Beyond that..." The old bakemono sighed, a mournful sound. "...the little hunter is helpless." 

Tora's jaws worked in disbelief, trying to form words--for so long, he'd thought the Beast Spear's Bearer to be almost completely invincible... 

"Do not forget," Arashikumo concluded, stern and direct. "There is immense power within the Beast Spear, and may the Heavens help us all if it is released..." The old one trailed off, shaking his head as if to clear it. "It must be wielded by those meant to hold it; it must be used for the right cause--and it must never leave the hands of those whose bloodline that little hunter carries." 

"Why? What...?" Tora's gaze sharpened. "How do _you_ know--?" 

"I was there when the Beast Spear was made. I fought in that battle two thousand years ago. I _saw_ what is sealed within it." Arashikumo's voice was suddenly strong, suddenly as it had been centuries ago, deep and forceful--and haunted an ancient, terrible memory. "I was face to face with something I _never_ want to confront again." 

Tora's eyes widened in apprehension, wary at the thought of something that even Arashikumo seemed to fear so much. "What is--?" 

"Take my word for it, young one," Arashikumo stated, his words suddenly old and weary again. "Just leave it be. Let the Spear and all its horrors rest in peace. Its legends are all but forgotten now, and no one needs be troubled by it, save that it does its work now as it always has, sealing and protecting--" 

Abruptly, the old bakemono's eyes went distant, his head coming up sharply as he seemed to be listening to something very far away. "_No!_ Not alone--!" 

"What is it?" Tora demanded, alarmed, instantly on his feet. "_Arashikumo!_" 

Jolted, the half-blind eyes focused on him again, distressed by what they had "seen" beyond sight. "The cub--the little hunter--the Shadow is upon him...he is hunting it alone, and he cannot _see_ it--!" 

"_Shit!_" Tora dashed down the tunnel as Arashikumo labored to his feet behind him. "That stupid little _Brat_ of a human--!" 

"Nagatobimaru!" 

The bark of command made him skid to a halt in the sand, glancing back at the ancient bakemono in the cave mouth. He saw the grimness in the elder's eyes and paused, listening intently. 

"The Shadow is too weak...to defeat the Spearbearer now," Arashikumo told him, panting from the sudden rush. "The little hunter can kill the Shadow..._if_ he is not caught unawares. If he can find the way...the Shadow can be slain. Beware yourself...but you must tell him--you must warn him...!" 

Tora nodded quickly, then leaped into the air without another look back. He burst through the canopy of trees, scattering limbs and leaves, hurtling toward the city. He had to find the idiot Brat before he got himself killed--or worse, devoured--before Tora had a chance to eat him. His hidden fear of the Hungry Shadow's clutches seemed to dim in the face of the Brat's peril, and somehow the thought of Ushio wrapped in that tarry black embrace spurred him to speeds he'd seldom ever reached before. 

* * * * *

There was just something _exhilarating_ about leaping from rooftop to rooftop across the suburbs, the night wind flowing through his long hair and the moonlight painting everything in shades of silver and black. Sometimes, on nights like this, Ushio could almost forget that he was out hunting something dangerous; it was so beautiful--just the roofs and the stars, and he alone bounded between them. And there was the buzz that always accompanied his change to the Spearbearer form--that heady thrill that came with being _superhuman_. 

Being able to do things like _this_, that no other human could do--his every almost-flying leap powered by his own charged muscles, his eyes able to see through the brilliant silver moonlight as clearly as a sunny afternoon--it was breathtaking. Terrifying and invigorating at the same time. Nothing else, in his opinion, could ever come close to this--except perhaps being able to fly on his own. 

Though it might cost him a tiny bit of humanity every time, he didn't think he could give this up. 

He was approaching that particular alley now, and his brief minutes of amusement were over--now it was time to _work_. He took one last running leap, easily clearing the street below, and landed on the roof-edge above the alleyway. 

Wary, Ushio peered down into the dimness, searching for movement. Unlike before, he could _see_ into the darkness of the furthest corners--no longer completely human, his catlike eyes saw through shadows as though they were nothing. The moon was bright high above as well, throwing everything into sharp-edged black-and-silver relief, casting pooled shadows everywhere. 

However, there was nothing here. Whatever _had_ been here was long since gone--the Beast Spear didn't even tremble. 

Another angry thought was sent his father's way, but instead of a muttered curse his only sound was a brief, sharp-toothed growl of disgust. He didn't have Tora around to follow the scent of the thing, either--and though he knew his transformed state granted him heightened senses, he hadn't the first clue how to track a monster that way. 

He would have to patrol and hope he ran across the whatever-it-was--and hope he got the _right_ whatever-it-was. 

With a grunt, he rose to his feet again, leaning on the Spear and glancing out over the rooftops. This area was mostly small shops, homes, and low-rise apartments--a lot of humans in one place, a thought that made his lip curl into a snarl unconsciously as he contemplated the presence of something sneaky and evil prowling in the dark outside some kid's bedroom window. Especially something that put Tora on-edge like that. 

His standing leap across the alley was so quick he was almost a blur, hitting the next rooftop and angling back across the street. He carried the Spear close alongside him as he moved, low and cat-quick, topping the incline of a house to bound to the next ridgepole, soundlessly light. Another house, then the top of a van parked in the street, then a considerable leap upwards to a three-story building ahead. He skirted along its roof-edge at a rapid jog--always searching, always alert--then dropped off again, this time to the top of a lamp-post, then a fence, then back to a house roof. 

He moved in a gradual circle around the original alley, waiting for a sign--as well as secretly enjoying the self-made rollercoaster ride across the suburbs. Alert and wary, but confident--he was the Bearer of the Beast Spear, strong and unbeatable. He could deal with this as he had dealt with every other foe that had crossed his path. 

His loop eventually brought him away from the houses and back toward the small businesses--back to the land of tall little buildings and deep, dark alleys. At least _here_ there were fewer people, but that also meant that a hungry bakemono was less likely to be skulking around. There was nothing much to eat here--perhaps a janitor or a night watchman...and Ushio half-snarled at the thought again as he topped a telephone pole to jump to the edge of a department store's roof. 

The Spear thrummed. 

But this time, Ushio was ready for it--he had been getting a _feeling_ as well. Something that had little to do with the Spear or its powers--or he _thought_ so, anyway--and more to do with that hackle-prickling, spine-tingling sensation of being _watched_. He stopped on the store's roof, waiting, violet eyes flicking back and forth. His head turned slowly as he scanned his entire surroundings, keeping still and silent; as his gaze found the building next door to the one he rested on, something seemed to whisper, _That way_. 

Eyes narrowing, he was at that edge of the roof in a hearbeat, crouched and ready. Below him was yet another alley, full of large dumpsters--and exceptionally dark, flanked by tall buildings and blocked by walls. It was dark enough that even he could not see into its deepest recesses. 

He studied each shadow briefly but thoroughly, alert for any single hint of movement. The Spear was thrumming faintly--and his own instincts were tingling as well--but there was _nothing there_. Nothing stirred, nothing made a sound. 

_Sound_. An abrupt realization--it was just as eerily silent as it had been earlier that night. 

Something _was_ there. But...was it in the alley, or merely waiting around a corner nearby? Was he looking in the wrong place? 

A sudden notion made him take a glance over his shoulder, just to be sure it wasn't bearing down on him from behind; seeing nothing, he relaxed infinitesmally, breathing a sigh as he turned back--then looking down as his eyes caught movement-- 

--something dark and large and chitinous and hairy boiling _straight up the wall_ at him, jaws gaping and drooling as it came out of the blackness-- 

"_Shit--!_" 

--on instinct alone, he was throwing himself over backwards; the Spear was in control, Ushio couldn't _think_ fast enough to react--it swung out as he came back up, strikng out _hard_ and glancing off the thing's mandible-jaw just hard enough to deflect it-- 

--and somehow, while the Spear got him out of the creature's first attack, Ushio realized that the bakemono-thing was completely _silent_, didn't utter a _sound_-- 

--and the body followed the averted head, a freight-train of too many legs and an awful stench that whipped right past him with enough force to tumble him over _again_, but he was back on his feet in an instant, ready; Ushio and the Spear were completely _one_ now, no hesitation, no distraction, and everything seemed to slow down--the monster included, even as it plowed to a halt across the roof, looped around itself, and rushed back at him like a deranged tractor-trailer rig. 

Ushio gripped the Spear tight and bared his fangs, charging ahead to face his enemy at last. 

Yet still, the beast was _silent_. 

It was some sort of bizarre, supersized insect, all limbs and bug-hair and gleaming carapace. If someone managed to breed a giant tarantula to a poisonous centipede, they might get something like it--only without the many glowing red eyes, four pincer-like forelimbs, and razor-sharp mandibles. Almost forty feet long, it curled across the rooftop as it turned at him, bearing down on him like a runaway train. Its jaws were gaping, flinging gobbets of greenish slaver across the rooftop; its four pincered front legs snapped like those of a hopping mad crab, reaching for him. 

But it didn't utter a sound. 

He met it head-on in its rush, dodging aside of madly swinging pincers and darting in to bite deep with the Spear's blade. He severed one of too many legs and drew a gush of dark-green ichor that spattered across his clothes; the thing curled around its wound and tried to crush him, coiling and thrashing like a headless snake. 

Ushio leaped clear, backflipping out of the way of a flung tail-section, his mind awhirl. The bakemono-bug was still noiseless, save for the clattering, rushing, clicking of its movements. If it simply _couldn't_ utter sound--but no, he hadn't fought a monster yet that didn't scream or growl or hiss or gurgle or _something_ at him as he killed it. 

This was just _weird_. 

But it was uncoiled, and coming at him again--no more time to think, only to _fight_; body, mind, and weapon were one, and all he could see/think/do was the battle. Leaping, dodging, ducking, striking--green tarry fluid splattering with every slash, every stab. His own blood, red and bright even in the moonlight, if the beast got lucky and clipped him as he moved; he was too fast, but it was so long--too many legs, too many eyes. 

The thing dove at him as it came around again, but was quickly less one eye--and still, it did not scream. It was bleeding from dozens of wounds--some of them quite major, given the amount of green liquid pooling on the rooftop--but it did not slow nor stall, as if it felt no pain. He'd lost count of the legs he'd taken off, but it still had plenty to spare--and his own legs were starting to get a bit tired. 

It was coming again, rising up like a cobra, casting its shadow over him as he stood ready, Spear raised and waiting for more blood. It seemed to blot out the moon, its shadow dark and bottomless--and then its eyes flashed and it came for him once more. 

With a yell, he attacked again, taking its head-on assault as an opportunity to put the Spear through its head and end the whole fiasco at last. Two-handed he brought his weapon around as he leaped, aiming for that spot between its two largest eyes-- 

With a flat _clang!_ the bakemono snatched the Beast Spear in its pincers, gripping just behind the blade as if trying to wrench the weapon into two pieces. The serrated edges of its claws sparked and grated on the metal--or was that the metal sparking in response to its grasp? Ushio paid it little mind, keeping a tight hold on the Spear's haft and flipping up to lay his feet against the hard-shelled pincer, trying to yank it free. The bakemono-bug reared back, shaking its prize; snapping mandibles came too close to his legs for comfort, so he swung up to wrap more of his body close around the Spear, trying to stay clear of its jaws. 

He had one moment of clarity, as he hung suspended some fifteen feet in the air being swung about like a rattle. His thoughts crystallized for a second as he stared down at the gaping mandibles below him, the beast's long body beyond, and the rooftop that seemed so far away for a second--especially if he lost his grip on his weapon. 

_Well, shit, what do I do now?_

No time to think long on that quandary--doom was rushing at him faster than there were moments to worry about planning ahead. The bakemono swung around again, and as his body was jarred loose by inertia the jaws opened to snap him in half. In another moment he was going to say goodbye to his legs... 

It wasn't really _Ushio_ who moved then--he was still staring at those gaping jaws in stiffened horror while his body jerked into motion. Violet cat-eyes flashed with feral will to survive, bringing a snarl to his face; his body bunched and twisted, pushing his muscles to their utmost even in this durable form as he coiled and kicked out, his shoes striking the bony mandible hard and launching him away from it. He kicked off, using its force to fling him over his own weapon, dragging Spear and claw with him. The power of the move twisted the Spear in the bakemono's claw, giving him the chance to get his feet under him and set his own strength against it. 

He growled then, low and inhuman; a twist, and the claw's carapace cracked--a wrench, and the Spear's blade bit deep into the limb. He followed through as green ichor spattered--the claw fell lifeless to the rooftop as he forced the blade through the creature's flesh, slicing deep into its thorax just behind the head, bringing forth a dark river of olive fluid as he ripped the Spear free and leaped clear. 

Ushio landed in a deep crouch, gathering himself to rise as his snarl turned to a predatory grin of victory--until a rush of air made him leap aside, dodging a swung claw by a hair's breadth. 

He turned and gaped at the insect-monster then--actually dropped his fanged jaw and _stared_ at it. There it was, gushing blood all over the roof, missing countless limbs and half-beheaded--and it was _still fighting_. It was gathering itself into a coil again, wobblier this time but still coming at him as doggedly as before. 

And all he could do was stare. 

_How the hell do I **kill** this thing?_

It got in a good solid hit before he could pull his wits together again, knocking him into the concrete side of the building's roof access door and drawing a line of blood from his ribs to his collarbone with the saw-toothed razor edge of its pincer. The Spearbearer shape kept him from breaking any bones...but damn, he was going to feel that tomorrow. Gritting his teeth, Ushio pulled himself up again, angry--and just a bit _worried_ now, too--that the thing refused to lay down and die. He was getting tired of this. 

He was getting just plain _tired_, too--he didn't know how long it had been since the battle had started, but even the Spearbearer's resilient muscles felt as though he'd run a few miles in his normal form. All this jumping and dodging to avoid the large monster's heavy body...he was breathless, brushing sweaty long hair out of his eyes and flinging himself aside as the monster's tail section whipped out at him again. 

If it was in this state and still not dead, he could be at this all night. Heck with school tomorrow... 

Why the hell was he worried about that at a time like this? 

He gathered his strength and charged again--the Spear scored again as well, but still there was not a sound from the monster, and still it did not fall. Stumped as to how else he could possibly kill it, he retreated slowly, trying to think. There wasn't much else he could do--there wasn't anywhere he hadn't hit it, and it was still alive. 

Panting, and feeling the beginnings of dread creeping into the corners of his mind that hadn't been claimed by the Spear, he gritted his teeth, gripped his weapon, and prepared to fight again. It was still coming, unmoved and inexorable. 

Then a familiar snarl echoed over the rooftops, and his muscles went shaky in relief--he spotted the orange shape swooping down in an instant. "Tora!" he cried out in near-joy, glad to have assistance at last. 

The bug-monster charged in his instant of distraction, plowing straight at him, its front section lifting off the ground so that the pincers were free to snatch him up and grind him to bits. He turned back to face it as Tora roared out a command over the deafening clatter of the giant creature's feet. 

"_Sever the shadow, Brat! **The shadow!**_" 

_What?_

For a moment, it didn't make sense--the thing was rushing at him and he itched to leap at it, to fight it and kill it. What Tora suggested was foolishness--a shadow was nothing, and if he ignored the monster's charge thus he would be killed. 

Tora was so close now, coming in behind the monster-bug, crackling with electricity and his toothy jaws wide in a thunderous bellow. "_**Sever** it, Brat--**now!**_" 

Jolted by the note of urgency, of need--perhaps even the hint of desperation in Tora's voice, Ushio reacted. He drew the Spear back--far back, until his shoulders strained--willing forth that deepmost power to cut, to rip, to split more than mere flesh. He felt the _pull_ deep in the Spear and deep in _him_, full and sharp and _ready_--_**now**_--and with a snarl he swung, a vicious horizontal slash. 

With a shrill, low peal, _power_ lanced out, visible and invisible at the same time--and to Ushio's surprise, it struck something. 

The charging insect-monster seemed almost to trip over the invisible blade of intangible steel--and _something severed_, cut loose with a _crack!_ that echoed through the night as the bakemono fell separated from its own shadow...or something _separated_ from the shadow. Half of the monster's remaining legs and part of its body were detached by the force of that etherial blade-- 

--and for the first time in the entire encounter, the bakemono _screamed_. 

The sound was so abrupt, so sharp that he jumped, caught for a moment by the _agony_ in the cry. The creature's torn body dropped like a string-cut puppet, crashing to the roof, its considerable inertia plowing it heavily across the tiles. Ushio had to leap aside as the massive form slid to a stop where he had been standing, a pathetic end to its fierce and frightening charge. 

Now it simply lay there, mortally wounded; the violent glow was gone from its eyes and it only moaned softly in pain. 

Ushio had to duck aside _again_ as Tora's lightning seared across the roof. "_Hey!_ Watch it!" he snarled, diving out of the way of the murderous blue-white flash. The big orange bakemono blew past him over the fallen foe, hissing like a steam engine and lunging low over the tiles-- 

--lunging with brilliant lightning roiling about him, in pursuit of an indistinct black shape that fled from the body, hunched and skittering, across the roof toward the dark alleyway. 

  
_To be continued..._

  



	4. Rumble of Foreboding

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ushio, Tora, or any of the other wonderful characters of the Ushio & Tora universe--they all belong to Kazuhiro Fujito himself. Original characters created here _do_ belong to me, so please don't take them without permission!)) 

  
  
  
**Secret of the Beast Spear**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Chapter 4: Rumble of Foreboding**

"What the _hell--?_" 

Caught off-guard by this new and unexpected anomaly, Ushio could only stare--and in his shock he hesitated for a crucial second. Roaring and hissing, Tora bore down on a shadowy figure that seemed almost to have no shape of its own, though in that second Ushio could barely make out limbs, head, and tail as the thing ran like hell, its movements somewhere between the scurry of a rat and the skitter of a lizard. It was running for its life--but Tora was gaining. 

After that second of involuntary pause, Ushio finally lurched into action, bringing his own weapon up and launching himself after the speeding shadow. Shock was replaced by anger--and the intent to kill. Whatever this thing was, it had Tora in such a state as Ushio had seldom seen, and with its startling emergence at the end of his battle he was certain this creature had something to do with the centipede-spider's attack--making it fair and legitimate prey. 

Tora's speed ate up the gap between himself and his quarry, and Ushio followed doggedly though he knew the bakemono would get there first. But he would be right behind if Tora was unable to kill the thing on the first blow, no matter how unlikely that was. Even if by some miracle Tora missed, Ushio would not. 

He was almost there as the scampering black creature made the rim of the roof, apparently thinking it could escape by leaping for the alley; Ushio couldn't help the predatory grin that spread across his face as Tora snarled to strike, practically on top of the thing-- 

It happened too fast. Tora's claws flashed, gleaming razor-sharp; the black creature pivoted off the rim of the roof, diving straight down into the shadow-bathed alley. Even as its tail disappeared over the edge and it was out of the moonlight, Tora's's talons were raking down in a slash so powerful that Ushio heard the bakemono's hand slam into the brick wall below--but then Tora was suddenly stopped, hanging half over the rim of the roof as if he'd tripped and fallen there, with a sharp snarl of "_What the hell--?_" that echoed Ushio's earlier surprise. 

It was so rapid and surprising a sequence of events that Ushio didn't have an instant to respond. Fully expecting the battle to be carried to the floor of the alley below, and having no time to adjust his present course, he crashed quite solidly into Tora's broad back, still moving at his rather impressive top speed. As per the principles of physics, his current form gave him the necessary strength and velocity which, when combined with his usually-insignificant size and mass, was enough to send the much larger bakemono sailing over the ledge--and to slam _himself_ into the low wall at edge of the roof, a slab of concrete that riddled with cracks from his impact but didn't give way to his knees and midsection, all but knocking the breath from him. 

Despite the sudden shocks, Ushio pulled himself upright with a groan, Spear in hand, eyes searching the alley below for their quarry--which had inexplicably vanished. _What the...? Where'd it go? Did Tora land on it or something?_

"_**Braaaat--!**_" As if in answer to his thought, a furious orange bakemono picked himself up off the trash-covered asphalt below and roared thunderously up at the startled-looking youth on the roof edge. "Why the _hell_ can't you watch where you're--?" 

"_Where'd it go?_" Ushio demanded, cutting off Tora's outburst with a snarl of his own. "That _thing_--where is it?" 

As if the collision had knocked the shadowy creature completely out of his mind, Tora blinked, then swore. Launching himself back into the air, the bakemono zipped toward Ushio at such a pace that the youth jumped back from the roof edge, alarmed. But instead of charging him, Tora stopped at the rim of the wall, narrowed silver eyes peering at the brickwork as if he could see through it. 

After several moments of this, Ushio finally relaxed his grip on the Beast Spear; growing curious, he frowned and stepped closer to the hovering orange bakemono. "What is it? What's the matter with you?" 

"He's gone." 

It was spoken so calmly and so abruptly that Ushio jumped. Leaning over the wall to peer down, he made out the hand-shaped crater in the side of the building that Tora's claws had left--but no sign of the creature they'd been pursuing. Not even a drop of blood. "But...how...?" 

"Feh..." Tora's muzzle wrinkled in tooth-baring disgust as he levitated himself to perch on the top of the wall, taking a deep rumbling breath. Both boy and bakemono scanned the alley, the walls, the nearby rooftops, searching for motion but finding no trace of their enemy. 

"At least it didn't eat you," Tora finally snorted. 

"'At least it'--_what?_" Ushio fixed the bakemono with an indignant stare. "All right, what's up? You _know_ something! What the hell's going on?" 

"Stop flapping your jaws, Brat," Tora growled, studying the dim depths of the alley below. "In answer to your question...that was a demon of shadows. An...acquaintance of mine warned me of it." 

"A...demon of shadows?" Ushio's eyes flicked to the shadow-pooled alley, apprehensive, then back to Tora's unmoving shape. "Okay...then can you tell me why it's got you all upset?" 

Abruptly, the bakemono rounded on him. "I am _not_ upset! Why would I be upset over something like this? I just won't let some conniving bastard stroll right in and take _my meal!_" 

Scowling, Ushio fought down an acute urge to apply the flat of the Spear to Tora's head. "Thanks for your show of concern," he muttered sarcastically. "It wasn't like I couldn't handle it, you know--" 

"Stupid Brat, you had no idea what you were dealing with. You still don't." Tora frowned sharply as well, his own thoughts admitting that even _he_ wasn't completely sure yet either, despite Arashikumo's warnings. His eyes passed over the shadows, then the rooftop, his face settling into lines of stone as he did. 

"So tell me!" Ushio demanded, thumping the butt of the Spear on the roof. "For God's sake, do we have to come to blows _every damn time_ I want to get some information out of you? If you want to eat me then eat me, but I'm getting tired of--!" 

"Shut up for once, Brat." Tora was looking past him now, still scowling--and his voice was sharp and somber, his tone startling Ushio out of his tirade more than the actual words did. The youth whirled to follow Tora's pointed gaze, his wild eyes coming to rest on the hulking bakemono that still lay unmoving on the roof tiles where it had fallen. 

Ushio gulped, remembering the battle. "If...if _that_ was the enemy...what's _this_ thing--?" 

"It's dying, that's what it is," Tora replied flatly, stepping off the roof wall and hovering to settle roughly three meters from the insect-like bakemono's head. As Ushio stared, Tora regarded the fallen beast for long moments, hard silver eyes meeting pained red orbs. "You're free now, warrior of the Mukade-Kumo tribe," the orange bakemono stated, his voice almost loud in the sudden stillness. "The one who enslaved you will be slain. Know this, and die in peace." 

Ushio bit back a gasp, startled at the flat civility in Tora's voice. Rooted to the spot, he stared in disbelief as the centipede-spider barely stirred, gurgling up some choking, rattling sound while Tora seemed to listen. Crouching back on his haunches, the bakemono nodded once. "It shall be done." 

Ushio jumped again when Tora glanced back at him and snapped, "Brat! Come here." 

Gulping again, the boy hurried to Tora's side, eyes wide with apprehension. "What...?" 

Tora jerked his chin at the insectoid monster, fixing Ushio's eyes with his own. "He wishes a quick and honorable death. See to it." 

Ushio's jaw dropped; he stared after Tora in abject shock as the orange bakemono rose and began to stride away. "Wh...wh-_what--?_" he tried to stammer, finding his tongue to be frozen. "What do you--?" 

Seemingly angry, Tora glared over his shoulder at the boy. "He doesn't want a lingering, suffering death drowning in his own fluids and writhing like a worm! It was _your_ hands that fought this battle, Brat, and it's yours that have to finish it!" 

Ushio gaped at him in horror, his grip slack on the haft of the Spear. He was suddenly shaking, suddenly struck by a cold sweat as he realized what Tora and the insect-bakemono wanted him to do. "You...you can't be...serious...!" he choked. "You can't think that I'd...that I could...but...isn't there anything we can...?" 

Tora stared at him for a moment, his silver gaze unreadable as he half-turned to face the terrified youth. Perhaps it was just the moonlight, but it seemed as though something softened in those cold, inhuman eyes. "He was forced to fight the Bearer of the Beast Spear. Do you think any common bakemono could survive a battle with you? There is nothing you can do for him now, save give him what he wishes." 

"But...but...!" 

Tora's face didn't change, but inside, he knew why it was so hard for the stupid human Brat to understand. It wasn't in the boy's nature to think this way; he wanted to help anyone and everyone who needed him, and lately his scope had extended beyond merely his own species. Yes, he remembered... 

_"Once I see someone injured, I can't just leave him without doing anything."_

Stupid Ushio-brat had even tried to heal _Tora_--a monster who was trying to eat him. Even tried to help Juro the Kamaitachi, who had come closer than any to actually slaying the boy. Even this centipede-spider beast, who had just minutes ago been trying to kill the silly human... 

"In this case, Brat, you must be cruel to be kind," he stated, bringing the boy's gaze back up to his. "Do it!" 

"But...can't _you--?_" 

"This is _your_ battle, Spearbearer," Tora bit out, sharpening his voice. "That damn Spear is the quickest way--my claws and my lightning both would take too long! Just do it--_now!_" 

Ushio flinched again, trembling to the very core. As Tora turned away once more, Ushio looked back to the suffering insect-bakemono, swallowing hard as he stepped hesitantly closer. Standing over the fallen monster, he gazed down into the dimmed, glittering orbs--and found himself peering into the eyes of a tortured, tired soul. His hand tightened on the Spear; the half of him made fierce and predatory by the Spear said _Enemy, bakemono, **kill**_. But the other half--the human half that Ushio clung to despite what the Spear did to him--cried out against ending the life of another living being. This creature was _not_ his enemy--it was all that damn shadow's fault-- 

"Strike into his left eye, Brat." Tora's voice made him start, flat and calm from a distance behind him. Gritting his teeth, Ushio raised the Spear and turned it point-downwards over the centipede-spider's main left eye, the largest and most whole left in the beast's head. 

Once, twice, he nearly drove the Spear down, but each time that pulse of humanity stayed his hand. The Spear lowered slowly as he stared into the dying bakemono's eye, tears coming to his own. This was unfair--so hideoulsy unfair--he wanted to kill that cursed shadow-demon, not _this_... 

_It is well, little one._

"Agh--!" Startled, Ushio blinked as the monster gurgled and something spoke in a tiny voice inside him. 

_Be at peace, and strike._ The voice was tired, so very tired, and hoarse with pain--but quiet and calm, patient and kind. _You fight with honor, and show great mercy--please, give me that mercy now. Let me die an honorable death at the hands of a fellow warrior. It is nothing less than any of my tribesmen would ask._

"But..." 

_It is well with my soul, little warrior. Be at peace, and strike._

"I'll get that bastard...whatever it is...I'll _kill_ it..." Ushio's jaw was so tight it hurt; the Spear came up again, half-unwillingly, and his hands gripped hard until his knuckles turned white. He was still looking into the monster's eye, his mind whirling, unable to tear his gaze away from the soul within. 

_Do it, just do it...oh God..._ He steeled himself, but his guts still clenched and his eyes burned. _Why...why...**why...?**_

With a stricken cry, he squeezed his eyes shut and raised the Spear high. "I'm sorry--!" he choked, sending the weapon stabbing downward with all his strength. _--just let it be fast--don't let him suffer, please--!_ He kept his eyes tight closed, but his aim was perfect regardless; he felt the blade slide through yielding flesh, crack through chitin and bone, felt power thrum deep and lethal as splatters of warm thick liquid struck his skin and clothing. After that eternal moment of _killing_, the Spear's tip lodged in the surface of the roof, its downward progress finally checked by hard concrete. 

_It's the same...!_ Shaking, Ushio stumbled back, releasing his grip on the Beast Spear. Almost immediately--but almost _reluctantly_--the power of the Spear withdrew, flooding out of him. The night grew cold and dark and quiet as long black hair fell to dust around him, all the strength going out of him as he dropped to his knees. _It's just the same...we're all the same...Tora--Tsubura--**Juro**...we're the same. Our souls...bakemono or human, it doesn't matter what shape...God, I could still see it even when I closed my eyes--the **soul**...! **Why** did that shadow bastard do this?_

When his eyes opened again, they were brown once more--human eyes, incapable of seeing much more than gray and black shadows in the moonlight of the rooftop, and for that he was grateful. The pitiful hulk on the roof was nothing more than a big black lump in his peripheral vision, a shapeless mass rapidly fading away into whatever comprised it; once the life was gone, the body would soon vanish, leaving no evidence behind but the broken roof and splatters of dark green ichor. 

It was so dark, and so quiet now; the night had faded from a thousand sights, sounds, and scents to a chilly blanket, muffling everything. Still adjusting to the change from...whatever-he-was to human, he didn't hear Tora come up beside him--and when the bakemono spoke, he started badly, already strung taut. 

"Well done, Brat." 

The shock of the compliment nearly drowned the grief he felt as he turned wide eyes up to the shadowed felinoid shape above him. "T-Tora...?" _Tora...**praising** me...?_

Still uncharacteristically reserved, the bakemono regarded the rapidly-vanishing corpse. "Fetch the Beast Spear, Brat, and let us return home. If you don't piss me off, I might feel inclined to share what I've learned. I expect you'll want to have a hand in killing that shadow-demon." 

At the mention of their new enemy, Ushio's eyes brightened at last, a flinty hardness coming into them. By now he'd been through enough that grief and fear could no longer paralyze him--at least for long--and the thought of sinking his weapon into the flesh of the monster that _deserved_ it gave him the strength to stand again. 

"Damn straight I do," he replied, startling Tora with the quiet vehemence in his voice--though the bakemono didn't show it on his face. "I'm gonna see to it _personally_." 

"Hurry up and get on, then," Tora snorted. "We don't have all night!" 

Without another word, Ushio swung up onto Tora's back, and in a rush of air they were aloft, banking over the rooftops and heading home. 

In the distance, thunder rolled ominously. 

* * * * *

A nasty storm was brewing. 

Shigure Aotsuki could hear it roiling over the hills, far beyond the city. Soon it would ride the winds down from the mountains and pour out its fury over the countryside, lightning and thunder and driving rain, a kind yet brutal cleansing of the land. 

He just hoped his son had enough sense to stay in out of it when the time came. 

Shigure lay awake in his bed, listening to the sound of distant thunder, waiting for the hint of noise that would inform him that Ushio had returned. Contrary to his son's opinion, Shigure was neither as blind nor as ignorant as he seemed; he was well aware of the boy's recent nocturnal outings, though he had little idea where he went or what he did. He knew it had something to do with the recent bakemono-related incidents that had been cropping up more frequently of late--and that being the case, he was most worried about this latest shadow on the horizon. 

Shigure had noticed a difference the very day he'd come home from the Japan Sea to discover his own son a very changed young man--suddenly Ushio's eyes were much _darker_ than before; there was so much depth behind them, and they _knew_ things, _hid_ things, where before they had been bright, innocent, open windows. Shigure was no fool; he'd been around long enough to know those kind of eyes. 

Hell, he'd gone through the same change himself as a young man, when he'd joined the Order and fought his first battle. Though he'd taken pains to see to it that the Order left Ushio alone, somehow it seemed that his son had come through the very same experience. From what--Shigure had a pretty good idea, actually. 

As stated before, Shigure was not stupid. He'd come home to find Ushio carrying around that shrouded pole, never letting it out of arms' reach--and that darkness that seemed to hang over the boy's shoulder like a second shadow... He had no idea how it had happened, or why, but it was more than a shock to eventually realize that his very own son--his careless, loudmouthed, ill-mannered, kind-hearted boy--had been chosen as the Bearer of the legendary Beast Spear. 

He'd told the boy stories for years, extolling them as true history rather than historic myth--while himself wondering if the mystical weapon was real or just a legend based on some time-skewed impression of a battle. Shigure was too familiar with the world of the supernatural to be so skeptical as to _dis_believe in the Spear's existence--the Order was far too involved in the affairs of monsters and demons to allow him to think otherwise--but after a decade of relating five-hundred-year-old "fairy tales" to a bored young boy even _he_ was bound to become a little doubtful. 

Still, coming in the door to find Ushio sitting at the kitchen table, his dark eyes haunted and deep, with a long pole wrapped in a sheet leaning near his shoulder--and a tangible presence in the room, a chill he could feel as if unseen eyes watched him-- 

--and sudden, cold, crashing realization of what the long object was when Ushio rose to his feet, bringing the pole with him with the easy grip of someone who'd been handling weapons all his life--Shigure had known in that instant that the thing his son carried was indeed a weapon, and one the boy had used with his own hands to fight a battle to the death. That much was clear in Ushio's flatly obscure gaze. 

It was all Shigure could do to simply greet the boy in his usual perfunctory way, shuffling off to his room to drop off his bags and clear his head. And to wonder...where had his son gotten that polearm? Why did it seem as if he'd carried it all his life? Why were his eyes so..._dark?_

The legend of the Beast Spear was his first and only answer--bringing with it a tide of shock so strong he couldn't stand up for several minutes, his old knees going weak from the impact. Somehow his son had opened the forbidden doors to the old Shrine's basement--doors that no one had ever opened, _never_--and found the ancient weapon down there in the depths. 

The thought of what _else_ might have been down there gave Shigure a frightening chill. 

But despite all this, Shigure had not said a word. He hadn't done a thing to indicate to his son that he knew what the boy was up to, or what it was he carried; he continued to feign ignorance and unconcern. It rather unnerved him, seeing what his son was becoming--how the Spear stayed so close to him always, how that _presence_ seemed to have filled the Aotsuki Shrine, how Ushio spoke and moved and thought and acted now... 

Shigure held no doubts that the Spear was changing his son, just like the legends said. He'd been around warriors almost all his life; the men of the Order were all those who had fought life or death battles, who had faced doom up close, who survived on their own speed, strength, and wits. 

Shigure himself ranked among those men; he'd spent years taking part in horrible conflicts, bloody battles--he knew the signs. Ushio had a grace and poise about him now, as if all those years of trying to drive home martial arts principles had finally, suddenly paid off overnight. The boy was quieter, more alert; he _saw_ things now, more aware of the world around him. He walked with the stride of one who is ready to spring into action without a moment's notice, carried himself with the poise of one who is prepared to fight at any time, and wielded that "pole" with casual ease that Shigure had seldom seen even amongst the finest men of the Order. 

With a wry smile into the darkness of his bedroom, Shigure wondered if that was why he hadn't pushed the boy into any brawls lately. His own warrior's instincts had warned him of the danger of such a move now; with the Beast Spear's influence it was quite likely that Ushio would be the one knocking _him_ around. But still...he'd never seen Ushio in action with the Spear. What must it be like, he wondered, to see the legendary Spearbearer in combat with a fierce bakemono-beast, such as it must have been when their samurai ancestor faced that feared monster long ago? 

It would be a sight to behold, he was certain. And the thought of Ushio, his son, wielding the mystical Beast Spear against the forces of evil gave him a feeling of...pride, despite the twinge of parental concern. If the Order knew that the youngest Aotsuki had uncovered the mythical Spear, they would insist that the boy be inducted--and Shigure wanted to spare his son the trouble of the Order's involvement if at all possible. 

But if the rumors he was picking up--both inside and outside the circles of the Order--were any indication, it was likely they already suspected that something had changed. The Spear made waves wherever it went--and the ripples were beginning to reach other shores. 

A faint _thump_ jerked Shigure out of his thoughts; instantly he was alert, ready to leap up and face the threat--when he realized that the sound came from the direction of Ushio's room. The boy was home at last. 

Barely audible footsteps, rummaging sounds--perhaps changing clothes; Shigure didn't need to ask what many of the stains on Ushio's garments were. The faint, stiff _thump-clank_ he'd come to recognize as the Beast Spear itself being set down against the wall; the whisperings, not unlike many he'd heard from his son's room before--mysterious sounds that played havoc with his emotions. Half of him was worried father, and such sounds, combined with the knowledge behind them, gave him an icy chill; the other half was warrior monk, and the noises reassured him and gave him confidence that another battle had been fought and won. 

How strange, he considered again, that the Fates would choose his son as the Bearer of the Beast Spear--and that he had been chosen to be the father of the Bearer. 

And as a father, he had to warn his son away from the most recent darkness to fall over the city. That shadowed feeling lately, as if he were swimming alone in dark ocean waters _knowing_ that the shark circled below... 

He shivered faintly, remembering the foreboding he'd felt--still felt, whenever he sensed that strange, unpleasant blackness. Something much darker than anything he'd ever faced--something so _evil_ he didn't want his son, Spearbearer or not, to have to face such an abomination. When he found it... 

Hopefully he could put an end to it quickly, before Ushio got involved. Whether or not the boy was the Spearbearer, he was still a _boy_. Such a thing was not for a child to face--not something that dangerous and twisted. 

With a sigh, Shigure tried to relax, turning aside on his pillow and at last closing his eyes as the voices nearby grew softer. Apparently there was little he could do to stop Ushio from following the call of the Spear; it only heightened his resolve to end the problem more quickly. As he forced himself to sleep, his thoughts dwelled on Ushio, the Spearbearer...and the suffering he hoped to spare his son. 

In the distance, thunder rolled ominously. 

* * * * *

In the darkness near a small sub-station on the outskirts of the city, sheltered from the light of nearby streetlamps, a shadow rippled like water. _Something_ began to rise up from the darkness like a man rising from a pool, silent and smooth. As the shape came up, the broken surface of the shadow spilled down, running like liquid back into its own plane as something black and undefined stepped up from the nothingness and onto solid asphalt. 

Hissing breaths panted into the cool night air. The strange figure seemed to hide from the light as it stepped closer to the pole that was the shadow's source, invisible but for the pair of blood-red eyes that glowed dimly in the darkness. Shapeless but at the same time well-defined, it was formless yet had all the appearances of arms, legs, and body. It seemed unearthly, a creature of a nether realm, more shade than flesh. 

Yet it was mortal enough to gasp for breath; mortal enough that, if one posessed the ears to hear, a heart pounded with exertion. It was leaning against the fence pole with the attitude of a man who has run for miles with hellhounds at his heels. 

In a sense, it had--fleeing from a power too great for it to face just yet. A marvelous, delicious dark power, full with age and strong blood... 

Sickly-red eyes glowed a little more brightly, but the thought that made them light most was not the tasty aura of the great fire-colored thunder-beast that had driven it away, but the savor of the smaller warrior with which it had done battle. 

Such a tempting flavor...something so deliciously powerful, yet so sweetly young... Rich and heady, fresh and vibrant, the "odor" alone was enough reason to abandon all caution and go for the prize. So _much_ of it, laced with the strangest, newest savor--like nothing ever smelled before; the tang of bakemono, the spice of raw power, but the _essence_ of..._something_... 

The shadow remembered the abrupt jolt at first touch--the taste/feel of that aura itself was appallingly strong, as if in a single nibble one was forced to swallow an entire dish. A rush, too fast; the shock of turbulent, untamed strength and wild, bottomless energy, all suffused with crackling gold--so much, so sweet a taste, and he wanted _more, **more--!**_

Then flash, and _pain_--the blinding taint of _human_ spoiling the potential meal with glaring, soul-deep brilliance that rendered it untouchable. The small bakemono-thing glowed with a mortal's spirit, far too bright for the touch of a shadow. So potent a source, just out of his reach--damnable human essence...! 

The little human-thing was the perfect meal--but one he could never devour. The second best would have to suffice for now... 

The shadow rose from its place at the fence pole and smiled at the darkening stars, anticipating clouds and rain and blackness. Chaos would come--and with it, the feast. 

In the distance, thunder rolled ominously. 

  
_To be continued..._

  



	5. What Lies Beneath

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ushio, Tora, or any of the other wonderful characters of the Ushio & Tora universe--they all belong to Kazuhiro Fujito himself. Original characters created here _do_ belong to me, so please don't take them without permission!)) 

  
  
  
**Secret of the Beast Spear**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Chapter 5: What Lies Beneath**

"Tora." In the stillness of the silent house, Ushio's whisper was like a snarl, shattering the quiet like a bullet through glass. At last it seemed to be the time for words, now that they were safely ensconced in the solitude of the boy's bedroom. "Start talking. Tell me what you know about that _thing_ back there on the roof." 

Crouched in the corner near the closet, Tora's slitted silver eyes settled on the youth seated on the futon. He didn't like the way the Brat was looking at him, dark eyes catching moonlight from the window and glowing as if Ushio were one with the Spear still. It was a cold, focused look, full of thought and threat, and the human's hand twitched nearer to the haft of the Beast Spear with each passing second. 

"Che..." Tora grumbled softly, shifting position slightly. "I guess I have to, if I want to get that bastard out of my territory. Listen up, Brat, I'm only going to tell you this once." 

"Let me make one thing _very_ clear, Tora," Ushio bit out, his hand actually closing on the Spear. "I'm sure as hell not doing this for your pride or your 'territory'--" 

"So shut up and listen," Tora snapped, knowing that such a retort might get him the flat side of the Spear upside the head. "I don't care why you do it, so long as it gets done." 

"Fine. Talk." 

Tora rumbled, then decided he was too tired and exasperated to pick a fight just now. "I was told that thing is a shadow-demon, as I said. It's one nasty son of a snake, according to...my source. It eats humans to fill its belly when it has the need, but it consumes bakemono to satisfy its other appetites. Sick bastard..." 

"Says a lot for your standards," Ushio muttered. "It's fine if it just eats humans, but when it turns on other bakemono it's a 'sick bastard?' Keh! What 'other appetites' are you talking about?" 

Tora chose to ignore Ushio's jab, answering the real question instead. "It's called a Hungry Shadow for a reason, Brat. It devours the souls of bakemono and enslaves them, living off their energy and bending them to its will." 

Ushio's breath caught, and Tora had the satisfaction of seeing the Brat's icy glare break. "So...that poor monster on the roof was--?" 

"No, that was merely a puppet; lucky Mukade-Kumo only had his shadow taken--his soul was still free." 

"Yeah, lucky for him, but--shit, Tora, if that thing can do that just by...by taking someone's shadow..." 

Tora remained still, pushing aside the memory of an abandoned school building, a tarry, enveloping danger and horrific, hungry red eyes. "It is much worse to be devoured by him," the bakemono replied. "That's why I warned you not to let him touch you. With the Spear, I'm not sure..." 

The boy's throat quivered with a gulp. "You said he just _eats_ humans, right? Just for...uh, for the meat?" 

"That's what I was told." The memory of the shadow's first attack still had the power to make his fur bristle; he _hated_ that thing--hated that it had frightened him, hated that it had the power to possibly take him. "Human souls are too bright for him to devour--they would drown his shadow essence and nullify him if he tried to consume one. He must take the flesh and let the soul go free. But bakemono souls are dark enough to be useful to him." 

The Brat's eyes were wide and dark in the starlit bedroom. Dark and round, no longer seeming to gather the moonlight to themselves, becoming only large, frightened human-child eyes; eyes that he had seen in a thousand faces centuries ago, instants before he slew them--the eyes of fearful prey. "Damn. Tora, you...you should stay away from him--" 

"Shut up!" Tora snarled, his voice startlingly loud and sharp in the stillness, making the boy jump, his hand tightening on the Spear. "I will not hide from that shadow bastard! Do you hear? I fear _nothing!_" 

"I know, I know!" the youth protested. "I just meant...I thought you...I mean you might..." He trailed off, frustrated at his inability to express what he wanted. "I just...don't want to have to..." 

Silver eyes narrowed to hot, guarded, almost hostile slits. "I've no need for your protection, _human_." 

"So what if you don't?" Ushio spat back, temper flaring. "If that shadow creep eats you and makes you his puppet--what if it's _you_ I have to put down like a rabid dog? _God_, Tora, I couldn't stand do something like _that_ again--!" 

"We will kill him first," the bakemono stated with icy, utter conviction. "_You_ will kill him first." 

Struck by Tora's tone, Ushio fell silent again, gaze turning inward. "Why...me?" he asked softly after a moment. 

Recovering from his earlier ire, Tora looked briefly disgruntled before scowling at the human boy. "I was informed that I may not have powers of the sort needed to destroy that Hungry Shadow," he replied stiffly, almost as if he were insulted. 

Ushio blinked, slightly confused. "Meaning...?" 

Tora only had the patience to say it nicely once. "Meaning that goddamn Spear might be the only thing that can kill the bastard!" he spat, as if he'd been forced to say something vile. And perhaps for him it was. "Che! Stupid Brat...if I didn't need the Spear for this I'd kill you right now. I'm tired of your whining and weeping!" 

Ushio stared right back, undaunted by the irate silver glare directed at him. "I'm tired of your nagging and threats! What's _your_ problem anyway? Just because _I'm_ concerned now that we've got two things to worry about--getting rid of the shadow bastard _and_ making sure you don't get eaten--" 

"Why the hell do _you_ care?" Tora growled, humphing and turning away. 

Ushio glared at the bakemono's shaggy back. "I have absolutely no idea." 

Dead silence reigned. 

Suddenly fed up with the whole discussion, and feeling the weariness of the long battle creeping up on him, Ushio sat back on his futon and pulled the Spear down beside him, safely in hand. "I'm sick of this--I'm going to sleep. Go get 'devoured' or whatever--see if I care. Just don't come crying to me to put you out of your misery." 

The human turned over and closed his eyes, thinking that he'd seen to the end of the conversation. However, at his last statement Tora had turned back with something unreadable in his eyes. 

"What if it was _you_ the Hungry Shadow consumed?" Tora asked, his voice like soft muted thunder. 

Ushio hid the jolt he felt by tensing his muscles, tightening his grip on the Spear beside his bed. "What are you complaining about now? You said the bastard just _eats_ humans. All I've gotta do is keep his teeth off me--" 

"Idiot." The bakemono's tone was sharply derisive now, rough with scorn and something unknown. "Why do you think he's hunting you? He thinks he can take you, fool!" 

"_What?_" Ushio sat up abruptly, making Tora jump. "He thinks _what?_" 

Tora rumbled softly. "You _know_ you're not human when the Spear takes you. You see it from the inside, but I see it from without--and if he sees what I see, then _you_ may be in danger as well." 

Ushio's dark eyes narrowed, _something_ glimmering in their depths. "And what _do_ you see, Tora?" the boy asked quietly, almost dangerously--and his gaze made Tora's fur tingle oddly. The Brat's eyes had changed again; no longer prey, no longer fearful--they had changed to the eyes of a predator, gathering moonlight once again. It was almost as if someone _else_ were looking at him for a moment. 

The Brat was suddenly _angry_, that quiet sort of angry that happened whenever the subject of the Spearbearer's Change was brought up. The silent, dangerous, withdrawn kind of angry that simmered around him like a second aura whenever Tora questioned his humanity, whenever Mayuko teased a little too much. The Brat was the Spearbearer through and through...but that didn't mean he liked what it did to him. 

"What are you talking about, Tora?" Ushio demanded, startling the bakemono out of his thoughts. "What do you see? What does _he_ see?" 

Tora's muzzle wrinkled with a low snarl. "Do _not_," he grated, "presume to put challenge to me through your eyes, _Brat_." 

The flat of the Spear's blade was smacked against the floor with a sharp _clank!_ that made Tora flinch involuntarily. "Dammit, Tora, just tell me!" 

The rumble in the bakemono's throat increased. "I've told you before what I see, fool! You're _not human_ in that form! I know what I smell and what I sense--you've got bakemono running all through you whenever that goddamn Spear takes hold of you!" 

"And that makes you think the shadow freak could take me?" Ushio demanded quietly. 

"If it makes you bakemono enough that he wants you..." Tora let the grim phrase trail off and linger in the air like a hung corpse, morbid and frightening. 

The memory of the spider-centipede's tortured scream made Ushio flinch inwardly; if that were only some sort of shadow-puppet, how much worse would it be if his own soul were taken from him by that monster? Losing his will, his sanity, his _self_--hell, he already worried about his soul enough where the Beast Spear was concerned. Little by little he _felt_ it eating away at his humanity, pushing at him with a feral darkness that he willfully denied--but despite his best efforts, something within him always reveled in the change; his doubts would be pushed aside and he would begin to enjoy the prowess, the hunt, the kill. 

Sometimes it seemed like he was being torn into two halves; one, the human that would shed tears at having to put down a hapless bakemono who had been enslaved by a demon; the other, a monster who enjoyed the fighting and the mayhem and the deaths, something that found dark glee in what the Spearbearer did so often. 

Was that what Tora meant by having bakemono all through him? The snarling feral beast-boy he became through the change--was _that_ what might give the shadow-demon a foothold in his soul? 

With a shudder, he looked up to find Tora's eyes meeting his, clear of anger or accusation--in fact, studiously neutral. "The Hungry Shadow is weakest in daylight," the bakemono announced softly. "We should do our hunting then." 

Ushio fought off the eagerness he felt when Tora said the word "hunting." It seemed rather frightening, especially after what he'd just realized. "I've got school tomorrow, baka. I can't just take off and--" 

"Worry about that later, Brat. What do a few days of school matter when that shadow is running loose?" 

_He's got a point there, but..._ "I'm going to school, Tora. I've missed enough as it is, and Asako's already on my case. I'll do it afterwards--you can do what you want until then." 

"_Che!_" Tora scowled, but grumbled to himself and finally rose from the corner. "Stupid Brat..." he snorted as he strode toward the window, apparently done talking for the night. Still muttering unsavory things about the idiot human he was forced to work with, he phased through the wall and out into the night, heading for his customary spot on the main Shrine roof. 

After he was gone, Ushio at last was able to relax his grip on the Beast Spear's smooth haft, drawing a sigh of relief that their conversation--if one could call it that--had not degenerated into a physical argument. Maybe it was the danger the Hungry Shadow represented, or maybe it was that they were getting a _little_ more comfortable with each other, but Ushio was grateful that lately Tora seemed less apt to attack, more likely to answer. If they were able to continue to work together, killing the freaky shadow-demon shouldn't be too hard at all. 

It was just hard to get over what he'd had to do that night. Killing a helpless, wounded, innocent bakemono simply because some shadow-grabbing _bastard_ had forced it to attack him... 

And if worst came to worst and Tora was captured by the demon...what then? 

Or perhaps even worse...if _he_ were the one devoured--if the Spear made him too _inhuman_ to escape the shadow's greedy clutches... 

It was a long time before Ushio was finally able to sleep. 

* * * * *

The shadow fled from the light as dawn approached. 

He was weaker in sunlight, yes, but that didn't mean his power _waned_ in the day; _light_ harmed him, not the hour nor the position of the earth. To avoid the burn of the rising sun, he escaped into the passages beneath the city--miles and miles of subway tunnels, sewers, basements, and drainpipes, an entirely separate world beneath the streets. 

A world populated by millions of light-fearing bakemono. 

They were good food, of course, and the hungry void inside him had room for many more than just the few hundred he devoured in his first hours there. He supped well, gaining power and knowledge as he rent bodies and twisted souls to his own desires. He would sit still for minutes on end to enjoy a particularly strong and flavorful soul, twitching in delight as he broke it bit by bit until the gibbering scrap of being was no longer recognizable as sentient. 

Still, these small creatures didn't have what he wanted--the taste, the _savor_ of ancient thunder, aged like fine wine...the tantalizing memory of the orange bakemono still tempted him like a cake in a store window. All he needed was the strength to break the glass. 

And strength he could gather by devouring these bakemono--it had been so long since he'd seen so many in one place. One city held more creatures than an entire country of the West! Born centuries ago in northern Japan, the weak young shadow had been driven away from his homeland and far into the Western world--where there were many humans, but far less of the food he really needed. Forced into hibernation by starvation, it was only by chance that he waked to the smell of a powerful bakemono nearby and chanced to consume the wounded creature, granting him the strength to rise up and return. 

Return to this land of such bounty and delight... 

Delight...surprising treats...like that strange bakemono-thing, _human_-thing that fought alongside the orange beast. Only that one--the one with the flavor of raw power and golden blackness, but a soul too bright to reach--stood above his current target. Mere human essence was the only thing preventing him from hunting the creature--strange as it was, the scent of that odd thing's soul was as potent as a drug. Taunting, _tempting_ him with hints of utter _darkness_, but gleaming brilliant gold with untouchable fire. 

Such a strange little creature... 

So many of the bakemono in these sewers knew and recognized the image of the small warrior--once he had them, he forced them to divulge their knowledge. But their minds shied away from that snarling, humanlike visage with raw terror that outstripped even the panic they felt at being taken by him. They would even run back into his clutches, like rabbits fleeing into the fox's den to escape the wolf. Their pitiful consciousnesses cried out in fear of that strange human-creature, and from any of them the most he could get was a single horror-ridden thought--_"Spearbearer! Spearbearer! Spearbearer!"_

The word pointed him at the legends he'd heard many times in his existence. Rumors, whisperings of a nightmare that hadn't been encountered in five hundred years, half a myth and half a bedtime story, that everyone thought had vanished into the mists of time. Tales of a terrible enemy that stalked the night hunting for bakemono to destroy, wearing the shape of a human and wielding a long deadly spear, bearing fangs that grinned in bloodlust and the eyes of a beast that glowed with infernal fire. 

He was no stranger to the tales--the Spearbearer, the Beast Spear, the legends handed down among monsters. So many young monsters thought the Spearbearer was just a story their parents made up to scare them...but now that it was real they'd spent months cowering in terror of an ancient horror. So many of the older ones had thought the legend had left this world long since...but now they groaned in fear of something that had reappeared after five centuries of silence. The shadow had consumed enough of them to know the tales very well--all the variations of them, all the rumors and myths and lies and truths. 

But still, despite all the information he'd absorbed, despite what he'd witnessed firsthand...by all appearances it was a mere human-thing with a big sharp stick. How did it inspire such panic amongst the entire underground population--and why did a human have a soul that flickered with _dark_, and bore the scent of his prey? 

Within the shadow's endless hunger there rested an insatiable curiosity--the same that drove him to explore other lands, to seek greater depths in the sewers, to hunt down new flavors of souls. That desire to know more was second only to his desire to devour the human-thing, the Spearbearer. He hungered for knowledge, for knowledge is power as well. 

He would explore, he would consume, he would search until he found one who knew more of this Spearbearer creature. "Know your enemy" was a valuable lesson; perhaps with time and patience he could gather enough power and knowledge to take the orange thunder-beast. Such an ancient bakemono would certainly increase his strength enough that he could take his greatest prize. 

The shadow crept deeper into the tunnels beneath the city, savoring the memory of the Spearbearer's soul-taste, grinning in anticipation of the feast. 

* * * * *

Ushio couldn't decide which was worse; the utter droning _boredom_ of another long day in class--after things like monster-hunting, school was pretty dull--or the dark, constant nagging in the back of his mind, reminding him of the Hungry Shadow that stalked the city devouring innocent souls. He'd had another row with Tora that morning about going out to hunt the thing, but at the moment he couldn't remember what had been so important about getting to school on time. 

Perhaps it had something to do with wanting to continue his education, get into a good college, and someday become a known and respected artist. Yeah, maybe that was it... 

There were a couple of bright spots, however; Mayuko, who was her usual cheerful self, and Asako, who uknowingly and obligingly took his mind off his problems by egging him into yet another verbal--and nearly physical--brawl. 

At least Mayuko waited until after school to ask him what was wrong. That way fewer people would notice how his face closed down, how his eyes grew dark, how he seemed to withdraw into a shell again. He couldn't really explain it to her in much detail--not with the threat of Asako coming out of the school building at any moment--and besides that, it wasn't something he really _wanted_ to explain to her. Not about the hunt, the battle, the shadow, the death; instead, he just told her that it was something _dangerous_, and it might be following him and Tora, so she should keep her distance for a while. 

And then Asako was coming out the doors and heading toward them, and all Mayuko did was give him a poignant look and state that he really should tell Asako the truth, and soon, because she was his friend too and just yelling "Leave me alone!" wasn't going to keep her away from any danger. 

Though he couldn't reply, he knew that in Asako's case something like that would only make it worse--she was way too stubborn for her own good. 

The trio left the schoolyard, and Ushio realized they were being followed the instant they stepped out the gates. Instincts well-honed by months of fighting bakemono let him know within moments that something dangerous trailed them, but within a block he relaxed his guard, recognizing Tora's familiar presence. As he did, the bakemono shifted in response, coming out of hiding and drifting to perch in his usual place on Ushio's shoulders. 

Ushio dropped back a bit as the girls walked ahead, continuing to chatter. Tora's silence was meaningful, as was the slightly-tighter-than-usual grip on the boy's shoulder. "Don't push it," Ushio muttered, a near-whisper he knew Tora could hear perfectly well. "I'm walking them home, then I'll go with you." 

The bakemono only snorted. 

Mayuko's house was the first stop, and she said cheerful goodbyes to Asako but only gave Ushio another meaningful glance as she took her leave and entered her home. Still rather lighthearted from her girlish conversation with her friend, Asako walked at Ushio's side with a pleasant smile, chin uplifted to breathe in the air, the faint breeze tickling her hair into her face. She pushed it back with one hand; Ushio caught himself watching her appreciatively and glanced away. He scowled as well when he realized that Tora was watching Asako--and he didn't like the narrow-eyed, unreadable stare the bakemono was giving her. 

Rather sharply, he shifted the Spear on his shoulder _just so_, and the flat of the shrouded blade bumped Tora's side. The bakemono jumped, hissed a curse, and nearly fell off his perch. 

Asako glanced at the boy beside her. "What did you say?" 

"Hm?" Sparing Tora a glare, Ushio pasted a confused look on his face and turned back to her, eyes wide and innocent. "Did I say something?" 

"I guess not," she replied, shrugging. "I thought I heard..." 

They walked on in silence for a few minutes more, both of them watching the pavement go by under their feet as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. Tora grumbled inaudibly and yawned, drifting off the boy's shoulders to hover along behind the pair. Ushio stewed in his own juices, his thoughts beginning to betray him by drifting toward the Spear, the hunt, the kill he was going to make... 

Asako watched her friend's face change out of the corner of her eye and fought a shiver. Though she'd confided to Mayuko that she was angry, in truth she was a little bit scared too. Something was happening to her best friend and she didn't know what, but it was changing him in ways she'd never seen before--in ways he obviously thought he could hide from her. But she'd known him since they were children--since they were babies; she couldn't remember a time in her life when she _hadn't_ known him. 

There was _always_ Ushio. Her earliest memories included him, bright brown eyes and short shaggy dark hair and that silly crooked Ushio-grin she knew so well--parts of him that stayed constant no matter how they both changed and grew. Ushio was _everywhere_ in her memory, always with her--he was the toddler in the sandbox with her, the little kid fighting over the playground swings with her; he was the gradeschooler riding bicycles with her...the teenage boy studying and arguing and walking home with her... 

She knew him like she knew herself--or at least she _thought_ she'd known him, before he started _changing_ so much. But even now...she still knew when he was happy or sad, angry or tired--almost as if they were empathically linked, she knew how to tell if there was something on his mind, or if something was hurting him... 

Like something was hurting him now. Just like it had been hurting him for months. A shadow had been over him ever since...ever since..._when?_ It had been so long since Ushio was the brash, bright-eyed, cocky boy she'd always known; now there were things hiding in his gaze, painful frightening things he thought no one noticed. Maybe no one else did...but _she_ did, and it made something in her chest hurt when she saw his eyes grow dark with some inner burden. 

It was getting worse, too. He was quicker to anger now, quicker to close down--much quicker to push her away. Whatever was bothering him...it was getting stronger somehow. It was starting to seep through whatever barriers he had erected to keep it inside himself. She saw it every day now--_especially_ today, and even yesterday--and it sometimes made her feel as if she was looking at a different person. As if some dark, angry, melancholy youth had stepped into his skin and replaced her cheerful, mouthy, happy-go-lucky Ushio. 

She wanted to make that pain go away, if only to bring back the Ushio she knew... 

But he wouldn't tell her what was going on--he would either clam up and walk away or open his big mouth with some baka-Ushio insult that made her temper flare and her original intent fly right out of her mind. 

She almost felt like she was losing him--like she was desperately holding on to his fingertips as he slipped over the edge of some terrible cliff... 

"...Asako?" 

She jerked at the sound of his voice, drawn forcibly out of her thoughts to look into his concerned eyes; such quiet was unlike her, she knew, just like such gloom was unlike him. Then she realized that he'd called her name several times, and that they were standing in front of her home. 

"We're here," Ushio announced blandly, concern vanishing, as if she were a child sleeping in the back of a parent's car. 

"I can see _that_," she shot back, bringing her mind back to the present and stepping up to reach for the door. "Well? Aren't you coming in for a snack?" 

Ushio hesitated, his eyes flicking away from her, then back again. "Not today. I've got some things to do. I'm...a little behind on my homework." 

"That's nothing new," Asako commented, earning a flash of indignant scowl from him--it was a little more like his old one, but not much. "We can study together if you like." 

Again, Ushio glanced away, almost as if something had called to him. "No...that's okay. I've gotta go. Oyaji's expecting me." 

Something inside her drooped with disappointment. "Fine then," she replied, her voice a bit sharp. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow. I sure hope you can manage to get that chemistry assignment handed in on time." 

"Yeah...whatever. See you." 

It unnerved her that he barely responded to her jab--barely even glared at her. She slid back the door as he turned to walk away, watching his retreating form until he had reached the corner, further and further away from her-- 

_...desperately holding on to his fingertips as he slipped over the edge..._

"Ushio!" she called after him suddenly--to her own surprise. 

"Huh?" He glanced back at her, his eyes so _flat_-- 

"Are you...are you mad about something? Mad at _me...?_" she asked--again, surprising herself with the words coming out of her mouth. "You--you've been such a basketcase lately...!" 

For the first time in a long time, she saw him _respond_. It might have been the tone of her voice, slightly worried...or maybe the look on her face, earnestly concerned--she wasn't paying attention to either, just to _him_--but his flat eyes softened and seemed to light from within, a half-smile touching his lips. "Baka! Why the hell would I be mad at you? You're such a helpless idiot, how could I get mad at you for anything?" 

_Again with the baka-Ushio comments--!_ "Why--why you--!" As she cast rapidly about for something _hard_ to throw at him, he made a face at her, laughing at her irate expression--finally laughing for _real_--and by the time she looked up again, startled by the clarity in the sound, he was gone. 

Her tight fists loosened, her own face softening in a strange sort of relief--at last, she'd gotten _through_ to him, really _touched_ him for the first time in days. She hadn't heard him laugh like that in _weeks_. 

"_Ushio no baka_..." she whispered. It was good to know her Ushio was still in there somewhere. 

_Her_ Ushio? Now where on Earth did her brain come up with something like _that?_

Shaking her head, she gave a short laugh at her own silliness and stepped inside, closing the door behind her with an eager greeting to her parents. 

* * * * *

Ushio was smiling until Tora settled on his shoulders again, the bakemono's huge paws reminding him of the supernatural presence that followed him. "Not a word," he growled, hunching his shoulders under the monster's weight. "Not _one_ word." 

"Did I say anything, Brat?" Tora grunted irritably, claws flexing just enough to brush Ushio's jacket. "We have a shadow to hunt--or have you forgotten?" 

"Shut up." Ushio shifted the Spear again, not quite bumping the bakemono with it, but enough to warn Tora that it was still there. "I expect you've found a few leads--it's not like you to sit around all day waiting for me when there's something to kill." 

"Of course," Tora grunted almost haughtily. "I was told he moves through shadows, and I saw proof of that last night--it's impossible to track him when he does. But I found trace of him some distance from the place you fought, and followed it to where the bastard went to ground when the sun rose. He's damn hard to track, but I caught his scent yesterday and I could recognize it anywhere." 

"So where is he?" 

"Underground." Tora growled softly, claws flexing again. 

"Underground where? There's a lot of underground under _this_ city." Ushio scowled; if Tora got any more irritated, he would need a new jacket. He was half inclined to boot the bakemono off his shoulders. 

"South of here, closer to the place we last saw him. Near that metal structure with lightning inside it." 

_"Lightning inside it?" That sure helps a lot..._ "What? You mean some kind of power plant?" Ushio obligingly turned his steps southward at the next corner, trying to remember where exactly he'd fought that battle. Finding the place on foot at ground level in daylight was different than reaching it from the rooftops in the silver light of the moon. 

Tora snorted in annoyance. "I don't know what _you_ call it. It's one of those places where humans gather up lightning and send it to other places. Different from the place that _makes_ lightning." 

"The sub-station near the bus depot...?" Ushio muttered, half to himself. Sometimes Tora's lack of modern knowledge made things frustrating, but it could be humorous as well. Being a creature of lightning himself, Tora could sense electricity to a degree, and it had been amusing enough to see his reaction to learning how humans used it; the bakemono had wanted to know how the hell--and exactly _when_--had humans learned magic that allowed them to harness "the power of lightning," as he called it. 

Ushio'd just tossed a science book at him and told him to read chapter three; humans didn't just _harness_ lightning--they made their own. 

Just to be witty, he wondered how many city blocks Tora would power if he were hooked up to enough wires. Trying to hide his twitching smile at the thought, he kept his head down and continued to walk in the direction Tora indicated, trusting that the bakemono remembered how to get to the place they were going. 

Finally, Tora's large hands tightened on his shoulders; Ushio stopped, growing wary. Without words, he knew they had arrived in the vicinity. 

It was a fairly deserted place, more industrial than commercial, with many large buildings and open, empty lots. He gripped the Spear tighter, his eyes scanning the street--there was the sub-station, less than fifty meters down the street--and frowning as his gaze swept over so many shadows. Too many black shadows cast by buildings, telephone poles, mailboxes--shadows made long and threatening by the sinking late-afternoon sun. 

"There's the place you fought the Mukade-Kumo tribesman." Tora pointed back toward the denser part of town, toward a stand of slightly taller buildings almost a kilometer away, which Ushio couldn't quite make out in detail with his human eyes. "That bastard slipped through the shadows and came out _there_--" Tora pointed to the small sub-station down the road. "--then walked in the shadows of those walls to _here_." 

At this, Tora pointed to the ground--and Ushio stepped back, startled, as his eyes flew downwards and settled on the manhole cover almost under his feet, barely a step away off the curb. "You mean he went--?" 

"Right through here," Tora confirmed, stepping off to drift to the ground. "His stench is all over it, besides the claw-marks on the metal. Apparently he can't pass through solid things; he can only travel through shadows." 

"Where did he go from here?" 

Tora glanced at him, almost askance. "You think I followed him down there? It's _all_ shadows in that realm, Brat--we're flies walking into the spider's web if we go further." 

"But...we _are_ going, aren't we?" Ushio asked, his voice soft with a sort of resignation. 

"What else?" Tora snorted, reaching out with spreading claws to skewer the heavy manhole cover like the top half of a hamburger bun, lifting it clear of its resting place as if it were merely the lid of a jar. He dropped it on the asphalt with a thick _clank_. "Feh! What a stench...!" 

Ushio peered down into the blackness. "Tora...are you sure about this? You just said we'd be--" 

"Why do you think I waited for you, Brat?" the bakemono snarled, showing white fangs. "Change yourself so you won't be completely useless in the dark--and let's go!" 

Ushio fought off the urge to bare his teeth at the bakemono in reply; not only would it be fruitless, it would also be rather silly-looking--he wouldn't have fangs until he changed. So he did as Tora ordered, drawing on adrenaline and anticipation to tap into the Beast Spear's wells of power, _asking_ for the Spearbearer's Change to come upon him, to remake him--and after the eternity/moment passed and he opened his eyes again, the passages below the manhole seemed not so dark as before. 

"Phew, you're right, it _does_ stink..." Ushio commented offhand as he knelt to peer into the hole. Somehow, the change...took a lot of the fear away, made him feel bolder, more dangerous--so it didn't seem as terrifying to stick his head in a hole full of shadows where something might wait to bite it off. "Shall we?" 

"I've been _waiting_ for this all goddamn _day_, Brat," Tora growled, scowling at him--but as Ushio braced himself to swing down into the manhole, the bakemono spoke again, his voice surprisingly stern. "Just remember, Brat--you're the source of light down there. If we are attacked, _you are the light_. Do you understand? _Remember that_." 

Wide-eyed at Tora's solemn statement, Ushio nodded. Then, as Tora phased through the asphalt and descended, the boy slid off the edge and dropped into the darkness, landing with preternatural grace on a concrete ledge three meters below. 

Alongside him ran pipes of metal and plastic, bolted to the brickwork wall; overhead were underground power cables. Below the ledge upon which he stood flowed a sluggish river of sewage and drainwater, reeking of many known foul odors as well as several Ushio didn't _want_ to identify. He silently cursed the sensitive nose that came along with this form; the stench almost brought tears to his eyes. 

The only light that touched this gloomy world flowed in from the open hole above, along with whatever filtered in through other manhole-covers and drainage grates on down the tunnel. Grateful for his catlike night-vision, Ushio peered ahead and behind, watching for movement. 

"This is an unsavory place," Tora announced quietly at his side, curbing the volume of his deep raspy voice so that the echoes wouldn't travel down the tunnels and alert their enemy. He sounded so solemn, so free of mocking or insult that Ushio couldn't help but stare at him and listen. "Many bakemono live here--and have lived here since this city was laid down. This is the place all the lesser bakemono go--those who cannot take human form or otherwise disguise themselves, those who still prey on human flesh or excrement, those who do not wish to leave the city and live in the wilds." The monster's whiskers twitched as he tested the air. "This place reeks of them...and of that damn human filth. I can't track that shadow bastard in this place," he admitted with a look of disgust, a faint growl in his throat. 

"We could always go down there and cause some trouble," Ushio suggested quietly, feeling his lips pulling back into a frighteningly eager grimace. "Like the flies in the spider's web--the spider won't come if the fly stays still. Only we're not flies--we're wasps." The grimace became a fang-baring grin. "The spider's going to get one hell of a surprise." 

Though he was usually disdainful, Tora couldn't help but smile darkly at the Brat's eagerness. "Brave words, little human. Let's see what happens, eh?" 

Ushio gripped the Spear tighter and headed off down the concrete walkway, Tora close behind. Whatever waited for them in the darkness ahead--he was ready to face it with Tora at his back. And if necessary, he would be the light as Tora asked--he would call upon the power of the Spear and turn this brackish darkness into blinding brilliance. That shadow would be found, and then it would _pay_. 

The little rumble in Ushio's chest had less to do with wariness at venturing into the darkness...and more to do with the anticipation of sinking his weapon deep into the Hungry Shadow's black flesh. 

Behind him, Tora tried to ignore his misgivings as they strode ever further into the foul blackness. He just _knew_, somehow, that the true danger of the shadow ran deeper than the deepest pits of Tokyo's sewers--and that this conflict had only barely begun. 

  
_To be continued..._

  
**AN:** _Sorry for all the dull introspection, folks, but don't worry--the action should pick up any time now..._

  



	6. Storms of Strife

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ushio, Tora, or any of the other wonderful characters of the Ushio & Tora universe--they all belong to Kazuhiro Fujito himself. Original characters created here _do_ belong to me, so please don't take them without permission!)) 

  
  
  
**Secret of the Beast Spear**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Chapter 6: Storms of Strife**

The shadow lounged in a deep, rank-smelling passage near a leaking trickle of sewage, blood-red eyes half-lidded, his attention focused inwards on the many new souls he had consumed. Safe and secure in the comforting blackness of a tunnel so old that even the city maps had forgotten it, the shadow sprawled out to rest and "digest" his prey. 

He was still hungry, of course--mere peons such as these could never be enough to satiate him--but all the bakemono in the vicinity had fled, and he had no desire as yet to chase them. No, at this point he preferred to savor the torment of the creatures he'd devoured and imagine what it would be like to finally take the orange thunder-beast and its little human companion. He could hunt down more of the scum here any time he wished. 

Fearsome Hungry Shadow that he was, he was quite used to having other bakemono flee from him. However, he was _not_ accustomed to them running _toward_ him. 

It began as a faint rustling very similar to the sound of creatures fleeing him in the distance. Then it grew louder and louder, until it was reminiscient of the stampedes he'd caused when he'd first arrived in this shadowed under-realm. Waked from his restful ruminations, the shadow jerked upright just in time to see the first wave of creatures pour around the corner--stragglers of the hordes he'd devoured before, the edges of the crowds that had once scattered in that direction. 

But now, they _ran_--skittering, humping, crawling, slithering, whatever their best means of locomotion--at full speed _straight toward him_, as if uncaring that he could snatch up a half-dozen of them in a single gulp. And by the look of utter terror in their many eyes, it seemed that there was something even worse than him in the depths of the tunnel beyond. 

The front of the horde reached him, parted around him, flowed past him like a river of sewage. There were uncountable numbers of hideous bakemono, from mouse-sized to easily the span of a small car, all rushing in panic, squealing and growling and gurgling, pushing and shoving and biting. The shadow was barely spared a glance, barely spared room to stand. 

Whatever could frighten these creatures so--that they would actually risk approaching him to escape it--must be a fearsome beast indeed. The sheer numbers of bakemono that ran like rats fleeing a ship made him wary; he immediately leaped into the horde, snatching up the first creature that looked somewhat intelligent and possibly communicative. 

It squealed when his claws closed around its throat, and thrashed as he brought it close and ordered it to tell him what was happening--and what they were all running from. 

Its voice was high and shrieking in fear, and it never stopped struggling to get away from him. Too terrified to resist, it babbled mindlessly. "_He's coming--he's coming! Kill us all--gonna kill us all--gotta run! Run! He's coming--!_" 

Eyes narrowing, the shadow demanded to know who was coming. 

"_It's him--it's **him**--Spearbearer--Spearbearer--Spearbearer--!_" It was gibbering in panic now, its thoughts retreating into the same thrall of terror that gripped even the souls he had devoured. 

The shadow simply let go of the bakemono, allowing it to fall back to the ground and disappear into the fleeing hordes. He glanced back down the tunnel, feeling his hunger intensify--but no, _no_, now was not the time. The darkness here was plentiful but he hadn't yet enough power to do it--not against the Spearbearer and thunder-beast both, not when he still needed to know _more_... 

Hissing to himself, the shadow skittered away along with the crowd, losing himself in their midst as they fled ever deeper. 

* * * * *

He was tired, he was footsore, he was hungry, and worst of all, he stank to high heaven. 

The only thing Ushio found to be thankful for was the fact that he was no longer in his Spearbearer form and therefore the stench wafting from his clothing and Tora's fur was no longer as overpowering as it had once been. Thank God for small favors, such as the insensitivity of the human olfactory system. 

He didn't have to ask why Tora was floating along behind him rather than perching on his shoulders. At least the bakemono reeked almost as much as he did, and thus couldn't complain. 

"Nothing," he muttered for the hundredth time, kicking a pebble on the sidewalk. "Not a single clue. Not _one frikkin' thing_." 

Ushio was in a mood nearly as foul as his current odor, having spent the last few hours mucking around in a dark sewer with nothing to show for it but an unpleasant new perfume. And the grime that caked his clothes, but that was something he didn't want to think about right now. He was almost home, heading up the road that led to the hills and his house, and the thought of a hot shower was the only thing keeping him going. 

Tora snorted, his muzzle still wrinkled in distaste at the scent of human waste. "I thought you knew that a spider can sense the difference between the snared fight of a wasp and the futile struggles of a fly." 

"Don't you get all smug on me," Ushio shot back. "You're the one who said we _had_ to go down there." 

"_You're_ the one who agreed--and as I recall you were quite eager to--" 

"I was eager to kill the bastard, not stumble around in that hellhole for five hours!" the youth snapped. 

"We didn't even run across a _single clue!_ And now I look like I fell in a pit toilet--and _you_ smell like one." 

Tora bared white fangs in an unamused gimace. "Don't complain at me of what you stink like, Brat. Whatever you can detect, I can smell a thousand times more." 

"Aren't _you_ lucky," Ushio grumbled. "I spent more time stumbling through that...that _shit_ than I did getting anything useful done. You couldn't even find a trace of him with that _wonderful_ nose of yours." 

"You were down there too, Brat--could you have done any better?" the bakemono spat back. 

"It would've been handy to be _flying_, jerk." 

"You honestly think I'd let you on my back after you fell in the first time?" Tora snorted, almost in disbelief. 

"I wouldn't have fallen in at _all_ if you'd let me on when I asked!" Ushio retorted. "Now I'm covered in it--and it's my school uniform! I don't know how I'm gonna explain _this_ to Oyaji--it's kinda hard to miss when he can smell me coming a mile away." 

"Further than that," the bakemono muttered as the Aotsuki shrine came into view ahead. 

Ushio cast a brief glare over his shoulder before moving into a jog, anxious to get home and get cleaned up before anyone caught him. It was after the dinner hour already, so hopefully his father would be meditating or something in the main Shrine and Ushio could sneak past unnoticed--if the wind was right--to get a fast shower. He wondered if he should bother to launder his uniform, or just give up and bury it. 

Inside the gates, all was quiet. Tora snorted derisively at Ushio's furtiveness and drifted away, heading for the Shrine roof and his own business. 

Ushio ignored the bakemono's scorn and hot-footed it for the house, anxious to be clean and presentable before he was seen. He carefully slid back the door and slipped off his shoes, then made for the stairs--only to be brought up short by the sharp bark of his father's voice. 

"_There_ you are, boy. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever grace us with your presence," Shigure drawled from his seat at the kitchen table. 

Caught like a buck in the headlights, Ushio froze. "Oyaji--?" 

But Shigure wasn't the one who made Ushio flinch like a guilty thief--it was the figure sitting beside his father, pinning him with a hurt, angry, accusatory glare. "Ushio, where have you _been?_" 

"A-Asako...!" 

"That's a good question, dear girl," Shigure continued in the same laconic tone, scooting his chair back from the table to fully regard his son. "Since I had thought he'd be with you, considering his usual practice..." 

"And he told _me_ he had to go home in a hurry," Asako put in, though her accusing eyes never left Ushio's. 

Ushio gulped, trying to force his suddenly-dry throat to work. "Look, I..." 

Shigure was rising from his chair now, curtness changing to ire. "Especially since I'm sure he knows it's past a respectable dinner hour, as well as past dark, and I've had no word as to where he is or what he's doing. He seems to have forgotten the rules in this household concerning his curfew." 

"Just--quit talking about me like I'm not here!" Ushio managed to spit out, irritated. 

Shigure's gaze turned direct. "Fine then--where were you, boy?" 

"I wasn't doing anything _wrong!_" Ushio replied hotly, scowling. He already felt guilty enough--the anger helped to hide the sheer terror he felt at having to explain himself. 

"Then why'd you have to lie about it?" Asako demanded from her place at the table. 

"That's what I'd like to know," Shigure seconded, stepping toward his son with a purposeful air, his voice sharpened with disappointment and exasperation. "Imagine my surprise when I called to order dinner from Nakamura-kun and you weren't there; Asako even told me she thought you'd gone home. You've ignored the rules of this house, _and_ you've lied to Asako--how is that not wrong? Eh?" 

At a loss, Ushio glared up at the older man, stubbornly mute. 

"Speak up, boy. God only knows what goes on in this city after dark--is it so wrong for me to wonder where my son is and what he's doing at ten o'clock at night? Well? Answer me, Ushio--!" 

His father's hand came up, moving to grip his shoulder--but somehow, with how tight his insides had wrung, Ushio reacted without thinking. He caught the wrist of the approaching hand, ducked and whirled to the outside, and slammed Shigure to the wall, arm twisted up behind--all with one hand, somehow keeping the shrouded Spear tight in his grip. Asako gasped, Shigure grunted upon impact, and Ushio froze solid a second time--suddenly, it felt as if the whole world had just spun sharply. 

"Very good," Shigure commented, muffled by the wall. "I didn't think you'd ever get that move right, boy." 

Ushio released his grip and jumped back as if his father's flesh had burned him. "I--I--!" 

In the silence that followed, Shigure removed himself from the wall with perfect dignity, straightening his shirt and fixing Ushio with a level stare. Not even Asako made a sound, too shocked to speak. 

"Heavens above, what is that _smell?_" Shigure suddenly asked, nose wrinkling. "Is that _you_, boy?" 

Flustered and angry at his own actions, Ushio stuttered a reply. "I-I fell...into a ditch." 

"Are you sure it was a ditch, and not a sewage treatment plant?" Shigure cocked a brow, his eyes still coolly flat, his face lined in distaste. "Go clean up. When you're ready to explain yourself, get down here." 

His nerve lost, Ushio fled as soon as the words were out of his father's mouth, feeling both confused and cornered. As he tumbled into his room, letting the Spear drop with a heavy _thunk_, his mind whirled with desperation and resentment--how _dare_ they pry into his business, it wasn't any of _their_ concern, his life was his _own_... 

On the heels of that, his guilt returned; it was his _father_ down there--his father and Asako, two people who'd known him all his life and had more right than anyone else to know what was going on. His father always talked about the Spear's legend--he might even _understand_... 

But then there was Asako. No way in hell she'd understand _this_. Not the Spear, not the monsters, not the blood and the fighting and the deaths and the _changing_--she couldn't handle something like this, not when he himself had only barely begun to understand it. 

She wouldn't laugh--no, her response would be much worse; shock, disgust, _fear_. She wouldn't want to be around him if she knew. She wouldn't want to be his friend, not if she knew what he'd done--how many battles he'd fought, how many lives he'd taken. She'd be afraid of him, she'd avoid him, scorn him--worse, she'd _run away_ from him. She'd never want to see him again. 

The thought of her fleeing from him in terror, never to return--somehow, it made his stomach clench and his heart pound, almost more frightening than the idea of facing some soul-sucking shadow monster. 

Mayuko knew, but...Mayuko was different. Mayuko...didn't..._matter_ the same way. He had all but _begged_ Mayuko not to tell Asako what was going on...because he didn't want to lose her like that. He couldn't bear it if Asako hated him. 

Ushio locked himself in the bathroom and turned the water on full, scrubbing hard and trying to drown every trace of his worst fears. Somehow he'd fumble through this, but he would tell no one--this was his own horror, his own burden. If Asako fled...he felt almost as if he couldn't breathe, the thought _hurt_ so much. If she were suddenly gone from his life...he didn't know why, but it felt as though his heart would stop. 

No, she _couldn't_ know. He would _die_ if she was gone. The only way to survive was to bear this burden alone. 

* * * * *

"What is the _matter_ with him?" Asako fumed. "I can't believe he'd...he'd just _do_ that to you--you're his father!" 

Shigure actually smiled faintly, sardonic and unaffected once more as he leaned back in his chair. "Child, you've known my son and I long enough that you know that sort of thing is a daily occurrence. Well, perhaps not so much any more..." 

"I just don't understand!" Asako continued, barely hearing him, her voice slightly plaintive along with the anger. "What's _wrong_ with him? He's been like this for days--_weeks_--God, how long has it been? He's always out doing weird things, and he never _talks_ to me any more...!" 

"Asako-chan..." Shigure's steady voice gently broke into her upset tirade, somehow giving her thoughts an anchor. "You're not alone," the older man told her quietly. "Ushio has been...withdrawn from both of us for some time now." 

"Ojisan...do _you_ know what's going on?" Asako asked, her voice almost a quaver without the temper to back it up. 

"I might," Shigure replied, pausing to phrase himself tactfully. "I suspect that the boy is dealing with some...outside pressures that we are not familiar with, and I have tried to be a patient father and allow him to come to me when he needs to. So far, he hasn't." 

Asako frowned a little, remembering--as Shigure had asked her to remember--how well she knew them both. And as far back as she could remember, Shigure had never struck her as the "patient father" type; more often than not, the two would come to blows over matters, more like a cranky master and a stubborn pupil than a father and his son. "What if...he can't?" 

A shadow flickered across Shigure's face that Asako couldn't see. "Then I must be an impatient father." 

"But if you don't know..." Asako frowned, running a hand through her hair. "God, what's going on around here? It's like everyone's under a cloud...even Mayuko--" She paused, eyes narrowing. "Mayuko knows something--she has to! I always see them talking, and they get all quiet and guilty-looking whenever I come--" 

"Leave Mayuko out of this." 

Ushio's sharp voice caused both of them to turn to the doorway. He stood there as if waiting to be shot--or something equally unpleasant--his eyes dark and closed and his hands fisted at his sides. For a second he seemed somehow incomplete--and then Asako realized that he didn't have that long, sheet-wrapped pole-thing with him. She'd gotten so used to seeing him with it...and now looking at him in just a clean T-shirt and sweats, a towel over his shoulders and his hair damp and scruffy from his shower--it reminded her of the _old days_, before he started carrying that thing around with him...and before he started changing so much... 

"I'm here, Oyaji. Start the inquisition." Ushio stepped into the kitchen at last, stopping at the end of the table and disdaining a seat. He had definitely come ready, if the iron in his eyes was any indication--ready for a fight, not an explanation. 

"I'm not here for an inquisition, boy," Shigure replied evenly. "I would simply like to make it clear that I don't want you running about at night, especially when I don't know where you are. You had both of us very worried--I'll have to call Nakamura-kun and tell him we've found you, so they don't worry--" 

"God, Oyaji, did you have to tell the whole damn city I went missing?" Ushio snapped. "Why the hell does it matter so much to you now? Most of the time you don't give a rat's ass where I am or what I do! You don't even _care!_" 

"Watch your mouth, boy." 

"Screw it! I'm old enough to take care of myself--I sure don't need _you!_ So what if I went out and fell into a sewer? It doesn't matter _one bit_ to you! Leave me the hell _alone--!_" 

"_Ushio...!_" Asako's voice startled him out of his tirade--she sounded so shocked, as if he'd been shouting the words at _her_... 

And by the look on her face, it was as if he _had_. 

"I...I can't believe you!" she finally all but shouted, her temper rapidly returning as she stood up to meet him eye to eye. "How _dare_ you treat your father like that--just because he loves you and wants you to be safe--! What's the matter with you, Ushio? I don't know what's happened to you lately, but I don't even know you any more! You're so _cold_--and you treat the people who love you like _this--!_" Her voice cracked, but her eyes still flamed. "You're such a jerk! You push us away--just because we _care_ about you--" 

Ushio could barely find his own voice. "That's not--!" But he broke off, his protests dying in his throat. Were those..._tears_ welling up in her eyes? 

"You...you _baka!_ What happened to you?" Asako yelled, her voice shriller than he could ever remember--her anger was _different_ this time-- "I don't even _know_ you any more!" 

He couldn't speak--not even when she rushed past him into the hall, heading for the door; his mouth opened to call her name but his voice just _wouldn't work_. Her last shout had cut deep, reaching him past the armor he'd erected to bully his way through this confrontation, wounding him in a place he couldn't defend. 

Coming from his father, perhaps such a thing would have simply bounced off. But coming from _her_... 

"Ushio--" 

He ignored his father's stern voice, finally forcing his legs to _move_, stumbling out into the hall just in time to see the door slam shut. "Asako--dammit--!" 

The presence at his shoulder startled him; Shigure had finally made it to the kitchen door, and stood gazing at him with a look that was strangely _knowing_. 

"She's right, you know." 

"About _what?_" Ushio demanded, unable to meet his father's eyes for long. 

"Everything." Shigure leaned against the doorframe. "Just because you haven't said anything doesn't mean we haven't realized something's wrong. What you see as intrusion is in fact our concern, boy." 

"Shut up!" Ushio whirled and stalked past the older man, snatching up the Beast Spear where it rested against the wall near the stairs. 

"You should be more honest with yourself--and with those who care about you." Shigure responded calmly. 

Ushio turned to glare at his father, his eyes bitter and angry. "Just stay the _hell_ out of my life, Oyaji." 

Shigure just _looked_ at him for a long time, something unreadable in his expression. Then he rose from the doorframe, turning to step back into the kitchen. "Very well...get going, then, or you won't catch up to her." 

"What?" Ushio scowled irately, already halfway up the stairs. "Why the hell do you--?" 

Shigure's voice still didn't change--not even a little. "Can't you hear? It's starting to rain, boy. If you've got one shred of decency left in you, go get the damn umbrella and walk that girl home." 

Ushio paused on the stairs, listening, catching the sound of thunder overhead--the same that had rumbled over the mountains last night, brewing for the coming storm. 

A storm. And Asako was out in it, running home. 

By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs again, his father had vanished into the kitchen. Spear in hand, Ushio slipped on his shoes and reached for the umbrella near the coatrack--hesitating only a second when he remembered the hurt and anger in Asako's voice, on Asako's face... 

"Dammit..." Jaw clenching, he snatched up the folded umbrella and stepped out into the night, into the growing wind, feeling the prickle of cold raindrops just beginning. Tora was nowhere in sight, probably disappeared into the Shrine for the night to wait out the weather. 

Curse it all, his father was right--if he didn't hustle, Asako would be soaked before he reached her. Though he had no idea why he was rushing out to do this for her after she'd just _yelled_ at him, damn it... 

But no matter how angry he was, he just couldn't bear to leave her out in the rain. Not caring to open the umbrella for himself, Ushio dashed off across his yard, into the darkness of the gathering storm, hoping to catch up to her before it was too late. 

Too late for the rain, too late for their friendship...whatever it was, he couldn't stop the cold urgency beginning to thrum in his heart... 

* * * * *

The Hungry Shadow watched the human girl dash from the gates of the Spearbearer's dwelling. Though at this point no part of him had the shape of a mouth, he _smiled_. 

The girl smelled wonderfully of anger, frustration, and emotional pain, and though he couldn't reach out and _taste_ her for the risk of being burned, the edges of her feelings drifted to him and made him salivate. Humans could have such _delectable_ odors--such a pity he couldn't taste her soul, as strong as it was... 

But what a marvelous opportunity for a bit of anguish. He couldn't attack the Spearbearer directly--not yet--but this girl perhaps seemed to _mean something_ to that human-creature. 

Still _smiling_, the liquid black mass began to pull away from the trees, the stones, the ground, changing and emerging from a flat shadow in the night to a three-dimensional form, something with barely-recognizable arms and legs, topped by a head set with blood-colored eyes that glowed faintly through the pattering rain. 

The shadow simply stood there for a long moment, those bloody eyes sliding closed and solid-shapeless body going slack. He didn't move save for an occasional twitch, and the real smile that slowly grew across his features--a smile that turned sharply to a grimace in an instant as his eyes flew open again. 

He suddenly began to _swell_, losing his vaguely humanoid shape once again, but this time, instead of flattening to the ground and becoming a mere shadow--_merging_ with the shadows--his ever-inconstant form _ballooned_, stretching like a filled plastic bag, like a bubble of chewing gum expanding to burst. 

Twice a man's size--then three times, continuing to stretch until the shadowy mass was the size of a small truck, its surface beginning to shudder and ripple. It was almost roiling, as if struggling--as if there was something _within_ the shadow. 

_Something_ burst forth--a dark, clawed, leathery limb, coverd in horns and scales. The shadow's substance began to pull back, drawing away, as the thing continued to emerge, tumbling free of the tarry mass like a newborn foal from its mother--a twisted inception that left the new creature gasping on the ground and the shadow exhausted, drawing his components back together into his loosely humanoid shape. 

The thing on the ground was some kind of giant, hideous, many-horned bakemono, all scaly leather skin and sharp-clawed limbs. Bigger than an elephant, it could have peered into the second story window of the Spearbearer's house. It rose sluggishly from the damp ground, unmindful of the rain, its eyes dull, black, and empty. 

The Hungry Shadow said nothing, merely turned his back on the thing he had birthed--or rather, _regurgitated_--and flowed deeper into the woods, taking the straight way back to the city rather than the road. He had no need to remain or command his slave; having once been part of him, its soul twisted to his will, it knew before awakening what was expected of it. He had given it an order, and now that order burned in its mind with an intensity of need that rivaled any pull of thirst or starvation. It would die before it failed him. 

The creature didn't look at the shadow, either. It simply began to move, leaving the forest's edge and, staggering at first, heading for the road. Its pace increased with every step, until it was a chugging, drooling freight train of horns and claws--and very long tusks as well--galloping apelike down the darkened road, bearing down on an unsuspecting human that hurried obliviously home not so very far around the bend... 

* * * * *

Shigure Aotsuki brooded in the kitchen after his son left, wondering if he'd done the right thing. He knew it wasn't like Ushio to be so callous--but he also knew it wasn't like the Spearbearer to be kind. If what he guessed was true, Ushio was having to deal with a lot more than either he or Asako expected. To be honest, he was fairly sure his own experiences in the Order paled in comparison to the weight of a life spent as the Bearer of the Beast Spear. Such ancient power and massive responsibiltiy... 

Legends could never prepare one for the real thing. And the legends themselves were sketchy at best, vague about the Spear's age and origins; in fact, the only story told in any real detail was the one behind the founding of their temple--the one about the Samurai and the evil bakemono and the Spear left beneath the Shrine, during the retelling of which Ushio always fell asleep. 

Rather ironic, that. 

The legends _did_ say, however that the Spearbearer and his lineage belonged to the Spear, just as the opposite was true--but there was a price to pay for so much power. The stories told that the Spearbearer was something no longer entirely human--changed completely by the duty and power of the Beast Spear. 

If that was the case, perhaps Asako was more right than she knew--perhaps Ushio really _was_ becoming someone they no longer knew... 

And if that was the case...was he doing the right thing in trying to protect his son--or what was left of him--from the deadly dangers of what roamed the city these past nights? Or was he in over his head this time, standing between a far mightier hunter and his prey...? 

A sense of _danger_ drew Shigure out of his troubled musings like the tug of an impatient hand. With a catch of breath, he glanced about the empty kitchen as if expecting the source of disquiet to simply appear there before him. It was a feeling he recognized well, having brushed it many times in the past few nights--something deadly, potent, _covetous_...drenched with a darkness and a hunger that even he could sense plainly. 

It was near. God help him, it was near and the children were out there alone in the storm--! 

The instant of paternal panic passed without a move on his part; he waited until the hammering in his heart died down, then rose from the kitchen table once he felt level-headed again. Now was not the time for fear; if anything, Ushio was perfectly safe--and if he was with Asako, then the girl was safe as well. 

And if Ushio was walking Asako home, he would not be out hunting for whatever stalked the night. 

He made his decision in that instant; it would be a much easier this way to set out, destroy the threat, and keep his son from that terrible danger-- 

Was it foolish of him to still want to keep his only child safe and protected, even when he knew that his child was the legendary Spearbearer? 

Perhaps it was...and perhaps it was still only paternal protectiveness that made him desire to shield his son. But he told himself that he was a monk of the Order before he was a father--though that was seldom the case--and it was his obligation to eliminate this evil, Spear or no Spear. Even if his son Ushio was just an ordinary boy, Shigure would still be duty-bound to destroy the monster than haunted them. 

He barely felt the rain as he stepped out of the house, heading for the Shrine. Inside, he reached into the recessed closet and drew forth his monk's robes, donning them with easy familiarity. Behind the hanging clothes rested his staff, and beside the staff was a trunk full of goods--ofuda, jizu, and other priestly weapons. He filled the pockets and recesses of his robes with them, ensuring that he was ready to deal harshly with whatever awaited him. 

Moving with determined grace that would have surprised his son, Shigure stepped to the door of the Shrine, pausing a moment to center himself. He took a deep breath, his hand tightening on his staff as he sent up a prayer for the safety of his son and future daughter-in-law. On such a night, with such evil lurking to snatch them all, he found that he worried more for the children than he did about any injuries he himself might receive. 

_Let them be safe,_ he prayed, his hand reaching to the door. _Ushio is my son, whom I love more than life--let those dear children be safe._

With another breath, he found his center; his eyes opened at last, steeled for action. Sliding back the door, he stepped forth into the rain, marching on to battle. 

* * * * *

Deep in the far corners of the Shrine's main hall, invisible in the depthless shadows, narrowed silver eyes watched the old priest depart. Unseen but perhaps not unfelt, Tora waited motionless until the sound of the monk's footsteps vanished from the yard, hidden in the pounding rain. He didn't stir even when the lightning flashed, even when the thunder began to roll; he knew what waited in the darkness beyond the walls--what lurked there, impatient to devour him. 

The sky rumbled with ominous foreboding as the rain continued to pour. As if the thunder itself had spoken to him, Tora growled in reply, knowing in his bones that something awful was going to happen on this turbulent night. 

  
_To be continued..._

  



	7. Blood and Thunder

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ushio, Tora, or any of the other wonderful characters of the Ushio & Tora universe--they all belong to Kazuhiro Fujito himself. Original characters created here _do_ belong to me, so please don't take them without permission!)) 

  
  
  
**Secret of the Beast Spear**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Chapter 7: Blood and Thunder**

_Bright, Asako...**real** bright..._

As she hurried home muttering dire things about a certain stubborn young man, Asako had failed to make note of the weather--and now found herself caught in the beginnings of a downpour. She was out in the middle of nowhere on the dark curvy road leading from Ushio's house, and no cars were likely to happen by at this hour--not that she would ever consider hitch-hiking, with the dangers involved--and with outskirts of the city still a ways away, the closest place of shelter was the Aotsuki Shrine. 

Yeah, _right_. Like she'd even consider going back there to that jerk and asking if she could wait out the rain. She was tough enough--she could handle this. Her home wasn't _that_ far away. 

Despite her will to continue, her arms betrayed her, creeping up to wrap around herself as she fought off a shiver. This rain seemed like it was only going to get worse--and by the thunder she could hear beginning to roar, it was likely to sock in for a while... 

Well, screw that. She was going _home_. 

It was getting stronger; she could feel the rain beginning to seep through her clothes, into her hair. It was damn _cold_ too, like the storm had blown in from the North. Lightning flashed, and the thunder pealed so quickly afterward that she jumped at the abruptness and volume. It was like the crash was right overhead. 

On the tail of the thunder, she could hear a noise like an old, clunky, chugging car engine--one with very a bad muffler. It rumbled up from behind her, tempting her with the urge to stick out her thumb and hitch a ride into the city--though perhaps she didn't want to know what kind of person would drive such a noisy, weird-sounding car...and it was getting so close, why couldn't she see the headlights by now? What an idiot, driving without lights--and something wrong with the wheels, making a _thump-thump-kathump-bump_ that made the ground vibrate almost like giant footsteps running-- 

Her brain finally caught up with the oddness and she turned, simply unable to figure out what was so weird about-- 

--_flash_ of lightning like a single burst of strobe-light outlining some huge spiky sickening shape coming straight at her, jaws gaping full of tusks, massive clawed hands _reaching_-- 

Blinded by the lightning, she could barely hear it still coming before the thunder drowned it out momentarily, but she _knew_ it was there--bearing down on her like a stampeding elephant, her mind supplying her with an instinctive _knowledge_ of what was coming, of what would happen; all in a single moment, before her cerebrum had even realized what was going on, her cerebellum had already processed _danger_ and calmly informed her body that her inevitable death might hurt a lot, so brace yourself. 

It wasn't even _that_ that saved her life, really. It was more the utter shock, the instant where her muscles went stone-cold _frozen_ in terror, all her thinking processes interrupted--including those going on between her feet and her brain. The monsterous _thing_ was coming straight at her, one giant hand upraised to strike her down; she was still looking over her shoulder, her body pulled half around to face the danger, for all the good it would do. 

What saved her in that moment was the fact that she tripped over her own suddenly-unresponsive feet and fell flat on her ass. 

It was a miss that could've been measured in _nanometers_, in _milliseconds_. It was so close she could feel the wind of that hand's passing--even the warmth of its reeking skin--before gravity jerked her out of the way and slammed her hard into the muddy ground. 

The huge _thing_ was unable to adjust in time, still deccelerating from its initial charge. Asako lay waiting for the stars to clear as it tried to correct itself but its sheer mass caused it to overshoot her position. One heavy foot slammed into her side as it stumbled past her, rolling her clean over and into the ditch beside the road. 

New stars flashed in front of her eyes, springing straight up from her suddenly-numb arm and ribs; over the rain she could hear the thing coming back, all heavy _thumping_ footsteps and rushing, blowing breaths. She couldn't see in this darkness, nothing beyond faint rain-shine and shadows--until lightning lit the sky again and showed her the hideous _monster_ leaning over her. 

Somehow she found the strength to scream, though it took what breath she had left. Without any air left in her lungs, adrenaline alone gave her the power to scramble backwards, the numbness fading from her arm and side to be replaced by throbbing pain. It was coming again and she ducked and stumbled, trying to get her feet under her--and something _hit_ her, _hard_, and the ground disappeared from beneath her and she couldn't even feel which way was up--until the ground returned to impact with her shoulder and then her back, and she realized she'd been flying through the air and who knew how far she'd gone, landing and rolling over wet grass and sharp sticks--she couldn't breathe, couldn't see a thing, and it took _forever_ to drag in a single ragged breath. 

She'd _never_ been hit this hard, not by anything--not when she'd sparred with her father, not even when she'd fallen off her bike--not _ever_ like this-- 

It was _coming_ and she could _hear_ it in the darkness, and somehow she knew that it could see her as clear as day and she was just a blind, crippled little rabbit. Again it was only adrenaline that let her move, let her roll to her belly and lever up to her knees. She realized she was sobbing as she tried to regain her feet, slipping and scrambling through the grass and mud, her hands scratched and stinging. Her death felt as undeniable as the storm, but God she didn't want to die like this, not with what she'd said to Ushio--she'd never see him again, never get to tell him she was sorry, so sorry and more than anything she-- 

_Flash_. Just when she thought her eyes had adjusted, the lightning stole her vision again. _Craack-ka**booom!**_ The roar drowned out her thoughts. 

Through the thunder, someone was screaming her name--the voice was so familiar, but so different, she couldn't quite... It was a boy's voice, harsh and loud, and the way he said her name-- 

_Ushio! It's **Ushio!** Why is he--wait, the monster--Ushio, **no--!**_

Fear, again--and this time, all for _him_. She could hear the stampeding feet of the monster as it came, and Ushio's voice--he seemed so near. Somewhere close to her. In front of her. 

In the path of danger. 

_No, Ushio, run away--**no, don't--!**_

_Flash_. Two figures briefly outlined by lightning, one large and one small, almost colliding. One of them held a long pole-like object; with no white shroud on it, it looked like a spear. But that--_that_--it wasn't Ushio, was it? 

Thunder rolled again, blending with sounds like those she'd only heard in movies--flesh-on-flesh, heavy blows, the whirr of a weapon, a deep, bestial scream of pain. Always coming closer to her, a dance of footsteps she could hear rumbling over the grass. 

It came to her slowly as she dragged herself to her feet for the first time since the thing had come at her--the monster was after _her_, it was trying to get to her, and Ushio was standing in its way. Somehow, he was fighting that awful _thing_...fighting it all around her, she could hear it--so close she couldn't even hear the rain any more over thuds and grunts and snarls and the pounding of feet against the ground. She couldn't get away from it, no matter which way she turned-- 

_Flash_. Two bodies locked in mortal combat falling toward her like a pair of battling cats--barely seeing it in time to get away, but her escape was hampered by the sluggish numbness pervading her body, and the impact threw her back to the ground again--something unbearably heavy crushed her right leg into the mud, making her cry out--she heard Ushio shouting, _yelling_, like she'd never heard him before. 

Something else knocked into her yet again, and she felt the scrape of scaly skin through the fabric of her clothes, then heard something _solid_ connect with that leathery flesh with bruising force--suddenly the pressure and contact was gone, and she could hear Ushio screaming furious threats somewhere beside her. 

She'd heard Ushio shouting in anger before but never like this--never screaming, _snarling_, so full of rage and violence and _hate_, his voice so thick and rough she could barely make out his words; half the time they blurred into sounds so inhuman she couldn't tell if he was even still _talking_. 

_Flash_. Someone was standing beside her, covered in mud just like she was--but that wasn't Ushio, _couldn't_ be Ushio, it was more like something out of a dream--out of _her_ dreams, something that she'd dreamed about several times before, when there was danger and something hurt her--it wasn't Ushio, no _way_, but it was standing over her and screaming with Ushio's voice and it _sort of_ looked like him but she couldn't see enough to know-- 

She didn't know, and that scared her almost as much as the monster did. 

She gave up on trying to reach her feet and started to _crawl_, attempting to put the furious havoc at her back, moving as fast as she could despite how the battle seemed to follow her--always on top of her, she could hear it and feel it and even _smell_ it, but she couldn't see it and she knew it was coming for her, raging all around her. There was another impact and an awful monstrous roar, and then Ushio was howling at her to look out--_look out--!_

The ground disappeared again--God she wished she could see what was going on, and at least then she could brace herself before it hit her. She slammed to the earth again, this time on something harder than grass--had she landed partly on the gravel beside the road? She couldn't tell; her head was spinning too fast. When it stopped, maybe she could find out... 

Ushio--he was screaming again. Angry. Furious. _Enraged_. She'd _never_ heard him sound like this--it was worse than even before, and it frightened her-- 

She wished she could see. 

--and there was a sound like a knife through a pumpkin--like when her mother had cut open the watermelon Ushio gave her-- 

She wished she could see. 

--and something shrieked, and the sound came again and again, like someone chopping wood, only it wasn't the wood it was the melon, soft and wet--the shrieking was dying to a rattle, a gurgle that turned her stomach--and she couldn't move this time and she _hurt_-- 

She wished she could _see_. 

_Flash_. There was something huge and broken on the road not twenty feet from her, and it wasn't moving--it didn't look like the monster any more, just a lump of something, and it sickened her--there was a spear-thing sticking out of its...head? Or was its head already gone?--and there was something--_someone_ standing over it, a blurry human shape with hot hateful eyes and a snarling face-- 

Darkness and thunder, and suddenly her heart was beating even harder than before... 

* * * * *

Shigure was actually _surprised_ that he made it past the first stand of trees across the road without being attacked. He had figured that with an evil of this caliber, it would've jumped him the instant he passed into the forest on the hillside. 

That's not to say he wasn't expecting the attack when it came. 

He barely even flinched when the dog-sized bakemono dropped shrieking through the canopy at him like some hellish monkey. Three ofuda and a short incantation later, it was nothing but ashes. He didn't give it time to fight back. 

Continuing on down the hillside, he followed the sense of darkness as it cut a straight path toward the city rather than following the more roundabout road. The lightning gave everything an eerie cast when it flashed, and thunder dangerously drowned out telltale noises. Twice more he fought off minor monsters that attempted to ambush him, as if whoever lurked ahead were sending its servants back to hamper his progress. None of them lasted very long, but each was stronger and more difficult. The last forced him to bring his staff into play, engaging it in a brief skirmish when his first jizu-attack didn't completely kill it. One of his special ofuda made short work of it thereafter. 

He was already wary, but with the death of the last bakemono he began to be _concerned_. Whoever mastered such creatures would be strong indeed...and Shigure was no longer the spry young monk he used to be. Despite what he'd gained from wisdom and experience, he was well aware that he'd lost some of his strength and stamina since the old days--since the days with _her_, fighting evil side by side and vanquishing their foes in a brilliant flash... 

_Focus on the now,_ he told himself sternly, growing even more cautious as he reached the bottom of the hill. _This isn't the time for reminiscing, old man._

Ahead, the outskirts of the city began. At the edge of the trees lay the back walls of some houses and lots, dark and quiet in the rainy night. There weren't many lights in this area, being a lower-income, more run-down part of the immediate neighborhood. But there were homes, and people, and children asleep in their beds... 

He hurried across the small stretch of open space between the wood and the open lot ahead, staying low and keeping his senses open. It was close--and he _knew_ it sensed his presence as well. If it was that powerful, it certainly wasn't blind or stupid. It was sending its minions back to try and destroy him before he found it...and if that was the case, did it actually fear him? 

_Don't be stupid. Something like this wouldn't fear a mere human like me._ He snorted to himself as he crossed the lot and waited at the corner near the crumbling sidewalk. _But that's a mistake that many have made before him--and they haven't lived to regret it._

He rather hoped it didn't choose to send any more creatures after him; cities--especially suburbs--always made for bad fighting. Too many innocent lives at risk too close by--on the other side of a wall, walking around a corner, driving by in a car. That was probably the reason it was fleeing here. 

A galloping scuffle was his only warning of the next attack. He whirled, staff raised and jizu outflung, barely deflecting the monster as it leaped at him, turning aside its first rush in a crackling flare of priestly power. It yelped and hit the ground several yards away, rolling back to its four feet and snarling at him. 

Lightning briefly illuminated it; it was some kind of angry, pony-sized inu-youkai--but like none he'd ever seen, and he'd traveled the length and breadth of East Asia in his lifetime. It was huge, rawboned and loose-jowled like a hunting dog in western medieval books. Its smooth, short fur was pure white, and it seemed almost to glow through the rain, easily visible in the night; its eyes shone golden, glimmering like hateful yellow embers-- 

--and it was coming at him, mouth gaping wide to bare gleaming teeth--teeth that clamped into the hem of his robe as he ducked away, ripping out a good portion of fabric. He spun easily despite the twinge in his knees, using the sharp end of his staff to slice into the inu-monster's side. Blood bloomed across the white pelt, and the dog howled. As it fell away, he brought forth three ofuda and flung them down, reciting his incantation in a quick, hard tone. 

The inu-youkai was blown back by the force of power, burned and shrieking and thrashing in the dirt--but not dead. To Shigure's surprise, it was not vaporized instantly. 

_An even stronger bakemono, then? No...this is different than the last--no intelligence, merely a demon-animal. Then why--?_

He had no more time to think, because it was coming again--as determined as a dog, indeed, unwavering in its desire to attack, leaping unerringly for his throat. Someone had set this inu-youkai on him deliberately, and the beast was obeying its master to the death. But his ofuda-incantation wasn't working; he didn't understand--what was wrong with his tools? If they couldn't destroy the beast in a single blast, either the ofuda were defective...or the dog wasn't exactly what he thought it was. 

He couldn't fend this inu-monster off all night--and if he couldn't kill it with ofuda, he'd have to do it the old-fashioned way. Time to try something new... 

Shigure dropped his staff and brought out one of his strongest jizu, gripping the beads in his left hand while holding a confining ofuda in the other. This was an old trick in the Order; his string of beads wouldn't be as effective as a true-made subduing rosary, but it would work as a temporary measure. Or at least he hoped it would. 

Even more enraged, the monster-dog lunged at him again, half its face blackened by his attack. And this time, he let it come--he had to do this _just right_. 

As the dog came at his throat, he flung the jizu up, letting it fall around the beast's neck. Once there, he clamped his fists into the short fur and wrinkled skin behind the dog's ears, both hands gripping flesh and jizu tightly as the beast's massive body came down on him. 

Every muscle in his arms strained as he forced the dog's head aside. The heavy jaws scrabbled at his shoulder, seeking flesh; his right hand stuffed the ofuda through the jizu and barely secured it as the inu-youkai's teeth found his shoulder and sank in deep. He bit back a grunt as he kicked upward, rolling the dog off him. As he forced power into the ofuda and the beads it bound, he fought for breath and shouted "_Down!_" 

With a snarling cough, the inu-youkai was jerked flat to the ground, its teeth ripping free of his arm and taking a good chunk with them. Shigure rolled away, stumbling to his feet, already searching for his staff. The beads crackled as the dog-beast fought the spell that held it to the ground; it wouldn't last long, and would work perhaps only once, so he had but seconds to finish the creature. 

Shigure found his weapon and scooped it up in his good hand, tripping in the darkness as he rushed back to plunge the sharpened tip into the monster's head and stop it once and for all. 

_Danger_ pressed in on him again, and in a single instant he realized that he was being watched--someone was observing the battle close by, some_thing_ hungry and powerful. With a jolt, he whirled, senses stretching to their utmost--and when he found his target in the shadows by the wall of the neighboring house, his attacking ofuda flew out like a warrior's arrow. 

_Something_ black and near-shapeless leaped from the shadow as the sealing bit of paper found its mark, sizzling on the wall. Pure malevolence drifted into the air like a cloud as the thing landed on top of the fence, glowing eyes of blood peering at him through the curtains of rain. He could see teeth as it smiled, and he realized it was laughing at him. 

"You have good eyes, priest," it chuckled, its voice a deep, hissing, hollow baritone, out of place coming from its its crouched, hunched, vaguely ratlike shape. "Too bad they won't do you much more good." 

"Who are you?" Shigure demanded, feeling a bit unsteady as the throbbing in his shoulder continued to worsen. 

"It won't matter to you much longer," the shadowy, shapeless shape replied, almost casually. "But I am famous as he of the Demon Eye, known throughout the lands as the Hungry Shadow. My name is Magan." 

"So _you're_ the one--" Shigure bit back his exclamation, schooling his features to iron. 

The shadowy figure chuckled again. "How much longer will your little spell hold back my pet, eh monk? It will be amusing to watch him tear you to pieces. That youkai there is a Yell Hound from the West--not like what you've faced around here, is it? No matter what you do, that dog will keep pursuing you, until dawn or death--his, or _yours_." 

"We shall see," Shigure responded, betraying none of his hesitation. A foreign youkai--a creature made of different stuff than the local monsters; no wonder his ofuda didn't work as well on it. He stood with teeth gritted; the night was barely beginning, so he couldn't outlast the dog until morning, but he hardly dared to turn and kill the beast with Magan the Hungry Shadow so close by. And the seal was wearing off--he had to do _something--!_

The crackle behind him told him that the Yell Hound was breaking loose; in a moment, his mind burned with a plan and he delved into the pockets of his robes to put it into action. A handful of ofuda were flung in Magan's direction, all of them deadly, and as he spat the incantation he whirled to face the snarling Hound; Magan hissed and dove out of the way of the flashing display--Shigure ducked as the Hound leaped, bringing the staff up with his bad arm and a lance of agony, and as the inu-youkai came at him its own weight and momentum drove the sharp end of his staff up through its mouth and into its brain. 

The Yell Hound gave a short gurgle and collapsed, crashing down on top of him, its mass toppling him as it rolled over him and skidded to a stop on the muddy ground. Shigure lay where he had fallen, his staff wrenched out of his hands, trying to clear his head enough to stand up again. 

In the sudden stillness, his own breaths seemed harsh and loud. He was dimly aware of a few warm yellow lights from houses near the lot and across the street--the people nearby had been awakened by the commotion. He hoped no one was stupid enough to come looking for its source. 

His head was fuzzy with pain, and his shoulder throbbed like a thousand bee stings--was the Hound's bite venomous? He had no way of knowing--but right now he had to get up, had to face the new enemy waiting for him by the fence, cold and angry that he'd killed its pet... 

Somehow he made it to his feet, though he hardly remembered how he got there. God, he was getting too old for this--and maybe he _was_ a stupid old fool, thinking he could handle this sort of thing alone. This was more dangerous than anything he'd fought since he was young...and even then, he'd had _her_ at his side... 

"Well played, old human," the shadowy figure said, its voice thrumming with sudden ire--sudden _danger_. "I'll have to deal with you myself." 

His staff--where had his staff gone? It was still in the damn dog's mouth--and he was almost out of ofuda and his remaining jizu wasn't going to be adequate. And Magan--whose edges had once been indistinct yet not fuzzy, whose form had once been vague but never completely shapeless--seemed almost to be _solidifying_; suddenly, without changing his _appearance_, the Hungry Shadow's more threatening attributes seemed to take on definition and distinction. 

Shigure could never see the demon's features in any detail, but the teeth and the eyes and the claws suddenly seemed to jump into sharp focus. Sharp white teeth, wickedly curved claws--and eyes of dark blood-red like the promise of his impending death. 

With calmness that surprised even himself, Shigure focused on his staff, some two meters away stuck in the Yell Hound's maw. He had to get to it if he was going to survive this--but as he guaged the distance between Magan and himself and calculated what he'd experienced with bakemono before, he doubted he could move fast enough to reach his weapon before Magan caught up with him. 

Well, shoot--he'd just have to get sneaky about it. 

Some part of him wondered how he could be so calm in this situation--he'd never felt so tranquil, so focused. That wondering part of him was the part that _wanted_ to gibber and flee in terror--the prey/human part of him that always acted up in the presence of monsters. But it was drowned out completely this time, as if... 

As if it was inevitable; as if he knew what would come and that he couldn't change it, and he was going to go down fighting and this bastard was damn well going to remember him for a _long_ time to come-- 

Shigure darted for his staff, knowing without having to look that Magan was coming at his back. But he wasn't aiming for his weapon--not yet. 

The rattling hiss of Magan's battle cry echoed over the lot like a rattlesnake's buzz of warning; Shigure felt the right moment come and forward-somersaulted into the mud--hooked black claws tore across his thigh and calf as he rolled clean over to his back--and as Magan overshot him, red eyes wide in startlement, he flung up his last two strongest ofuda, catching the shadow-youkai straight in the belly. 

Magan's resulting scream was _very_ satisfying. 

_Monsters might not get scars, but by God he won't forget **that** anytime soon..._ In another moment, Shigure was rolling to his feet once again, Magan still flying through the air from the blast. He was at the Yell Hound's head in a second, wrenching his staff free of the beast's disintegrating flesh. 

His shoulder had dimmed into hot numbness and his leg burned with fresh fire, but somehow his injuries faded into the background as he found himself strangely _exhilarated_, as if fighting a losing battle freed him of worries, of doubts, of inhibitions. He couldn't help his grin as Magan picked himself out of the mud with an utterly _incensed_ look on his indistinct black face. 

"Got you that time, bastard," he tossed across the lot, almost cheerfully. 

"You'll pay for _that_, monk." Magan snarled audibly, something tarry and glistening even more black splashed across his stomach region like wet paint. Shigure hoped it was whatever made up the Hungry Shadow's innards. 

Well, he was down to three ofuda and a jizu--and he doubted the collar-rosary trick would work with this youkai, anyway. If this was to be his last battle, he might as well make it count. Give Magan here a few more things to remember him by. 

Hissing like a cobra, the shadow-demon lunged again, talons outstretched; Shigure focused his power in his staff, bracing to meet the challenge--and then, they _fought_. 

For a while, running on his fighting high alone, Shigure managed to keep pace with the Hungry Shadow. Blow for blow, dodging the demon's talons, inflicting wounds where he managed to punch through his enemy's defenses--and though he knew it wasn't going to last, he pushed to his utmost while he could. It was like reliving his glory days again--almost like adventuring in the depths of China, when _she_ was with him and they fought together, against so many monsters, just like this... 

But it wouldn't last--it _couldn't_ last. Shigure was too old, already too injured. He began to falter, began to be driven back with each blow, his torn leg wavering beneath him, unbalancing his defense until he had no footing left; Magan knocked his staff aside in a single blow, sending it whirling into the sky, and coiled to strike again before the human could collect himself-- 

Shigure was prepared, even then. Those three ofuda he'd kept in reserve were brought out and up, almost into the shadow-youkai's face--the priest spat the spell in a harsh, smug voice, meeting Magan's once again startled eyes for an instant before the wards let go with their power. 

The Hungry Shadow was blasted back yet again--but the ofuda were weakened by their wielder's exhaustion, sapped by his injuries. Though his face and chest were scalded by the brilliant flare, Magan was still very much alive--and very, _very angry_. 

A _scream_ ripped from the youkai's throat this time--a cry of pure rage and hate. Shigure stood calmly, waiting, knowing what was to come; now, _now_ was the time, he had given his utmost--_almost_--and there was only one thing left to do... 

Magan _charged_. Shigure watched him as if in slow motion, seeing bloody eyes maddened, jaws gaping wide, hooked claws extending toward him-- 

The impact knocked the breath from him, blanked out his vision, made a dull ache tear through his body. It centered in his diaphragm as if he'd been punched, and made it hard to breathe, hard to even swallow. His eyes cleared as he felt raindrops on his face, and realized he was lying against the fence on the far side of the lot. 

Then the pain hit him, stealing his breath completely. Fire spread through his stomach--down to his belly, up into his ribs. He didn't scream--he couldn't spare the effort to; it hurt so that he couldn't even close his eyes, couldn't even black out. He could only stare in mute agony at the black shape directly in front of him, eyes blank and glassy. 

His snarl changing to a smug grin, Magan began to stalk toward the downed priest. Confident and collected once again, the shadow-youkai stood over the wounded human like a triumphant conqueror. 

"You're a crafty one, priest," the Hungry Shadow conceded mockingly. "Too bad you're human--I would've _enjoyed_ breaking a soul like yours. But I'll just have to content myself with the taste of your flesh instead." 

Magan knelt beside Shigure, meeting the monk's agonized gaze with smug red eyes. Shigure's mind was sharpened by pain, however--and with his last bit of strength, he concentrated on the object held in his right hand. He would make _damn_ sure Magan never forgot him-- 

As the shadow-youkai's taloned hand reached out toward Shigure's throat, somehow the wounded monk _moved_. Lunging up, one straining hand slipped the last remaining jizu around Magan's wrist. Shigure's faint, whispering voice hissed one word--a sharp, unfamiliar word, like a curse, a word he'd never used before. The jizu's beads glowed briefly crimson like a red-hot string of iron-- 

--and as liquid blackness began to pour from Magan's wrist like thick water, the Hungry Shadow started to scream. Rearing back so hard he fell clean over, the youkai thrashed in the mud like a wounded snake. Howling, he leaped away across the lot, stumbling and scrabbling and tearing at the string of beads that stayed immovably on his arm, burning and cutting and cleansing and sealing and horribly, _horribly wounding_ him in even deeper places than just his limb-- 

Like a mad bull, Magan crashed into the fence, then up and over it, still running like a buckshot dog, still screaming into the night as the jizu's power ate away at his flesh--knocking over trash cans and slamming into parked cars, creating a din and havoc even worse than the battle itself had. Not only did even more lights come on, but now windows were thrown back and sleepy humans peered out into the rainy night with concern--and, hearing what they did, many picked up their telephones. 

Lying still once more on the sodden earth by the fence, Shigure had only the strength to smile faintly. _Serves you right, you soul-eating bastard..._

At least the agony was fading away. Some part of his mind dimly registered that as shock, mercifully sparing him the pain of dying--and that wasn't necessarily a good thing, since he'd always been told that pain lets you know you're alive. If he was feeling this numb now, he must be as close to dead as one could get and still have a heartbeat. 

Then he wondered why he found that thought vaguely amusing. 

Perhaps it had something to do with the regretful resignation he felt. He knew he was dying--knew it from deep within, knew that there was nothing that could be done. He knew it, and he wasn't afraid. He had resigned himself to death from the moment the fight had begun in earnest, somehow realizing that this would be his last battle... 

But that didn't mean he _wanted_ to die. Or even that he didn't regret that it was happening. 

He had a lot of regrets, he considered as he lay there staring at the rainy clouds. Most of them centered around Ushio, his dearest and only son...how he had never spent enough time with the boy, had never been much of a father to him. If a miracle gave him a second chance tonight, he knew he'd do something to change that. 

But that wasn't likely--not even in his line of work. He regretted that he'd not gotten a chance to say goodbye to his boy, that they'd parted on such angry terms. He regretted that he was dying alone here and now--it would be inexplicable, and Ushio didn't know any of the truth and wouldn't understand when he found out; his poor boy...poor dear child...this would hurt him terribly, and Shigure regretted that. He regretted not telling his son "I love you" more often--and he regretted not having that chance right now. 

If he couldn't get his life back, perhaps the heavens would grant him one final wish...and let him see his son _just one more time_... 

  
_To be continued..._

  



	8. Damage Control

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ushio, Tora, or any of the other wonderful characters of the Ushio & Tora universe--they all belong to Kazuhiro Fujito himself. Original characters created here _do_ belong to me, so please don't take them without permission!)) 

  
  
  
**Secret of the Beast Spear**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Chapter 8: Damage Control**

It was so _quiet_. 

The rain pattered down on her cheek, cold through her clothes, stinging on her cuts. After the violent, continuous din of the fight, the night seemed hollow and silent with just the drenching rain to fill it. Without that tumult, her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, her own breaths rasping through her throat--and she could hear another's breathing, deep panting breaths almost as rapid as her own. It almost sounded like Ushio. 

_Get up, Asako,_ she ordered herself, just barely beginning to move. _Whether or not that's Ushio, whether or not that thing is dead, you can't lie here on the side of the road for the rest of the night. So get up. **Now**._

It hurt appalingly to move; her ribs felt as if a horse had kicked her and her left arm didn't want to work. It took a lot of effort, drained of adrenaline as she was, but she pressed to her knees, gasping, then wobbled to her feet. The night tilted around her dangerously, but she held her ground, keeping her footing through sheer determination, though her head felt like it was spinning in a slow circle. She felt shaky and almost hysterical, light-headed and strangely _alert_, like she'd just stepped off a wild roller coaster--or just walked away from a horrible car wreck... 

_Flash_. She started, almost losing her feet; the one by the corpse was _looking_ at her, eyes reflecting the lightning tenfold, brilliantly indistinct--she couldn't see _fast_ enough to capture details, but the eyes made her catch her breath. 

She was shaking hard--cold, fear, shock, or maybe a combination of the three. But her mind was strangely quiet despite what she'd been through, as if she'd suffered so much terror that she'd come clear out the other side--beyond fear, into shock, until all she could feel was numbness and a strange, dreamlike focus. 

And that focus narrowed until the one who had saved her dominated her thoughts. Like a dream, like a waking nightmare, she _remembered_-- 

Footsteps, so quiet she almost didn't catch them through the rain--coming closer, coming toward her over the asphalt and gravel. She flinched, stepping back until she hit grass and the footing became unstable; the footfalls stopped, somewhere near but how close she couldn't tell through the rain--her eyes were starting to adjust again, maybe she could make out...a shadow and two dim points of light--? 

_Flash_. She jerked back, gasping--he was _right in front of her_, little more than two meters away, and she could see him clearly in that single instant the world lit up. She knew it was _him_; it was his face, his mouth, his clothes, his hands, his eyes--but those _weren't_ his eyes, _no way_, not that shape, not that color, and that wasn't his hair either-- 

"Asako..." 

_Oh God, that's **his voice**...!_ The thunder drowned out her audible gasp. The world was bathed in darkness again and she couldn't see him any more, but where he was standing those two points of light remained, soft lambent purple in the dimness--and as her skin prickled with goosebumps she realized that those were his _eyes_, lit from within and shining through the rainy night. Her heart was pounding as if trying to beat its way out of her chest; she stared wide-eyed at the dim shadow, trembling as those glowing eyes pierced into hers. 

"Asako...are you alright?" 

_His voice--it's **his** voice--_ Once again her eyes fought to push aside the darkness, and with his nearness she could just begin make out a rough sketch of his figure--the paleness of his shirt, the contrast between his skin and his hair. 

But it was _his voice_--a voice so familiar, a voice she would know anywhere, had known since before she could remember...and it was _his voice_ that cut through the fog of shock and confusion, bringing her around like a beacon in the dark. "U-Ushio...? Just...just what the hell _are_ you?" 

The words just popped out, abrupt and unthinking; the immediate danger _seemed_ to have passed, and Asako Nakamura's best defense was always a good offense--she preferred anger to fear, because fear made her feel weak. She couldn't be weak, not now, not with adrenaline and terror buoying her up... 

There was a long pause, and she couldn't hear anything but rain. Then he drew a breath, his voice quiet and level. "To be honest...I don't even know. It's a long story." 

"Long sto--but--then what--how--?" Her voice was high, she realized distantly, and louder than she'd intended. 

A step on the gravel, and she sensed a shift of weight. Ushio's voice came again, curt and urgent. "This isn't the _time_, Asako--it's pouring rain, it's late, and we can't stay here; there might be more of--" 

"More of _that?_" she demanded, her voice cracking shrill with what she might've realized, had she been more clear-headed, was incipient hysteria focused by confused fury. "God, what _was_ that thing? What's going on?" 

He was impatient this time, his voice clipped. "It's a bakemono, but--look, we have to--" 

"_That's_ a...a bakemono? Why'd it try to get me--was it trying to _eat_ me? How did you know--why were you here anyway?" Her questions came faster and faster, her voice rising higher as she swayed on her feet, dizzy with a new kind of terror. "And what happened to _you?_ Why are--why are you like _this?_ Who did this to you--?" 

"_Dammit_ Asako--!" There was a snarling _snap_ in his voice--a completely new growly undertone, something that had never been there before--and with a squeaky gasp, sudden fear closed her throat as swiftly as a noose. But then his tone changed _again_...and it was just _Ushio_ talking once more. "Sorry--I'm sorry--I didn't mean to...aw..._shit_, this is just..." 

She was trembling--shaking so hard she didn't know if her bruised leg could continue to support her. Something had suddenly upset him, making him stumble over his own words. It could've been the look on her face; she had no idea what it was just then. She didn't know how _he_ knew; she couldn't even see a shadow of his expression--unless those eyes did more than just glow in the dark. 

_Flash_. In one abrupt instant, she saw him again. He was different than before--the face across from her seemed less fearsome, more anxious. He looked worried, regretful, apologetic, nervous. Then the night closed in--the thunder's peal was delayed this time, moving away--and all she could see were those two haunting lights. 

Shivering, she closed her eyes. In the dark, he seemed more like Ushio--less like that familiar stranger she'd seen in the bath of lightning. In the dark, with her eyes shut, she couldn't see that dim purple glow... 

"I...I just want to know...what's going on," she croaked, unable to put any more strength in her suddenly-wavering voice. "Who are you...really? Are you...?" 

She heard him sigh, a sound full of such _weariness_ that her throat hitched. "Baka, I'm--still _me_. Don't be like that." 

God, he sounded so...tired? Sad? _Afraid?_ What was he afraid of? Wasn't _she_ the one standing there with who knew how many injuries, having just been almost killed by some monster and no way to defend herself? Wasn't _she_ the one standing here wondering if he was really who he was supposed to be, when she barely recognized him? It was so hard to think straight--hard to stand, too. "But what happened to you? What's...?" 

"Idiot...we're standing here in a goddamn _thunderstorm_--and you want to know what's going on? Can't it wait, baka? At _least_ until I find out if you're going to live!" 

"Ushio...!" He sounded so much like his irate old self, so much like he did when they were having a silly argument... Her throat tightened with half a sob of relief. "It's...it's really _you_ isn't it? You're...you're really Ushio...?" 

"Of course I am!" he snorted. "Come on--quit being stupid and let me help you. We can't stay here--I've got to get you home." She heard his footsteps approaching again, and tensed as she saw the glowing eyes grow nearer. 

"What are you doing here, anyway?" she asked--a dumb question, of course he'd come to save her from the monster-- 

The footsteps paused, and the glowing eyes blinked. "Actually...I, uh, brought you an umbrella..." 

_An **umbrella...?**_ A sudden tiny little smile tugged at her lips; she was in shock and hysterical and some part of her knew it, but he just sounded so much like Ushio again--like her stupid, sweet, rude, kind-hearted Ushio--and she felt like she wanted to sob but she just couldn't let herself. 

"Damn, I think I dropped it around here somewhere..." Leaving her standing alone in the dark, the pair of eyes disappeared along with his shadowy form, and the footfalls jogged rapidly away across the gravel and asphalt. Seconds later, so quick she jumped when it happened, he just _landed_ beside her with barely a crunch of gravel, as if he'd leaped there--and in a moment, she heard the _foomp_ of an umbrella opening. Finally, the cold pouring rain was gone, and she heard it pattering on the fabric above her. 

He was close to her--close enough to touch, this time, and when he _did_ touch her she flinched only a little. But his hand still felt the same, still warm and gentle against her shoulder, stopping at her arm, as if by touching her he could tell where it hurt. His skin was much warmer than the rainwater, and under his very _human_ touch she felt her muscles begin to loosen in subconscious relief--this was Ushio, _really Ushio_, and she was safe now. The release of tension made her knees wobble under her, threatening to give out, but he moved quickly to support her, holding her close against him with his free arm to keep her from toppling. The warmth and solidness of his body made her blush, made her wonder if he'd _thought_ first before he hurried to brace her up. 

Lightning flashed again; the strange/familiar face so close to her own startled her, making her jerk--but this time she didn't pull away. In that moment, behind the brilliant eyes, sharp features, and sodden locks of long black hair, she saw the concerned face of her lifelong best friend, the boy she'd known since babyhood. His face was _different_--keen, intense, angular--but he was still _Ushio_; perhaps even _more_ like Ushio, all the unnecessary parts planed away. His expression was somehow more vivid, more direct; gentle, fierce, alert, protective, anxious--and most of all, worried. For _her_. 

And _he_ was blushing, too. 

It was all so clear on his new face that even in that brief moment she could see it all. In an instant she was plunged into blackness once again, losing what little progress her eyes had made on adjusting to the night--but she knew what she had seen. And from the intensity of it--she knew he could feel her shaking...but he took it the wrong way. 

"Dammit...I never wanted..." His muttering was soft but she could barely make it out, something about not wanting to scare her. The arm about her shifted slightly, and she felt his fingers brush her ribs--his voice grew rough once more. "Shit...he hit you hard. _Bastard_..." 

"I...I don't think anything's broken," she offered, still shaky, fighting down the pain she felt when his hand touched her side. 

"How the hell should I know? You look like he chewed you up and spit you out--God I wish I'd gotten here sooner--" His voice broke off with that little _growl_ again, something that she could even _feel_ now that she was pressed against him. It came from deep in his body, and made her tingle with a peculiar warmth inside. "I've gotta get you outta here," he announced. "I can't fight another one with you in the way." 

"I am _not_ in the way," she protested weakly, just for the sake of protesting. 

"The hell you're not," he grumbled--and she could hear him swallow rather loudly, his arm loosening. "Think you can walk?" 

"I can if you can," she retorted, her voice hoarse. "I'm not _that_ weak, you know. Let me go and I'll show you!" She tugged, but his arm was as inexhorable as an iron bar. The immovable strength she felt surprised her anew, despite everything she'd already seen. 

"Yeah, right," he snorted, at last gently releasing her, steadying her with one arm as she slowly regained her balance. "I'd just like to save myself the trouble of picking you up off your butt. So don't complain." 

"You...you baka--!" She could feel him watching her as she limped along beside him--but her voice cut off as she realized he was leading her back to the corpse in the road. 

It was, to her surprise, rapidly disintegrating. She could see it even in the darkness, melting and crumbling like an old banana left in the sun. She watched him reach out to the pole-thing still embedded in the body, gripping it and pulling it clear of the dead flesh with a wet sucking sound. She gulped, seeing the rainshine glint off the long, lethal blade. 

"...won't let go again...dammit, wasn't even touching it..." he murmured indistinctly, turning the pole up so that she could clearly see the elongated triangle of the head; indeed, it looked like a real spear--the old kind, like those in some of her father's martial arts history books. A multi-purpose weapon, made long-bladed and light-hafted so that a warrior could easily switch between close combat with foot soldiers or greater reach to take down a mounted samurai. The blade itself was blackish and silvery, smooth and sharp and probably made of iron; the haft was some sort of dark, polished wood, satiny and glistening in the rainshine. Something fluttery was tied around the base of the blade--something ragged like a scrap from an ancient banner. 

"Ushio...what...?" 

"This is the Beast Spear," he answered simply, softly. 

"Beast Spear...?" At that name, a million memories poured in on her--a million recollections of Aotsuki-ojisan and the stories Ushio yawned about, the legend of the Spear trapping a bakemono in the Shrine cellar that she had always taken for a myth and a joke. But now she was gazing upon the fabled weapon itself, the very heart of all those memories--all those legends... 

Ushio was descended from the Samurai in the stories--and now he too was a monster-killing warrior like the famous ancestor she had heard about. And she had just witnessed a _real battle_. 

He started walking, slowly so that she could keep up and stay out of the rain. "That's--that's the one--from all those things Ojisan said--" 

Ushio gave a snort, and she couldn't tell if it was amusement, derision, or irony. "That's the one." 

Limping alonside him, she stared at the glinting metal for long moments, speechless with the weight of implication. "The legends...the bakemono..." 

"It's all true. Everything." Ushio's voice was growing clipped and impatient--and she had the distinct impression that he was _closing down_ again. Something about this...was _hurting_ him--something was _wrong_-- 

Her intake of breath made those lambent eyes lock on to her. "This has to do with...with _that_--with what's been wrong with you--! If this is what's made you so...so...!" She couldn't help but look straight at him, couldn't help but shiver looking into those suddenly-sharp eyes. "God, Ushio, why didn't you _tell_ me--?" 

"And just _what_ was I supposed to tell you, huh?" he demanded, turning his eerie eyes away--whether out of anger at her demand, chagrin at startling her, or just avoiding her eyes, she couldn't tell. "I'm just supposed to walk up and blurt out that I have a new job as the city's bakemono hunter? Shit, Asako, you'd've laughed your head off--then _freaked_ like you did just now..." 

"You...you could have told me about _this...!_" She was growing angrier again, both at his lack of faith in her and at his argumentative tones now. "And this _is_ something to freak over--this is _serious!_ God...I didn't even believe things like this _existed_--I thought they were just stories that Ojisan tells--" 

"You and me both...I wasn't _ever_ expecting this to happen--it was all just a damn _accident_..." 

"When?" 

"Huh?" 

Gritting her teeth against her anger and the pain in her abused leg, she repeated herself. "_When_ did this all start? How long have you known? If you've been keeping this--" 

"Damn it, Asako..." He paused, silent for long moments. "Since that thing with Ishikui--you remember that? The monster in the stone samurai armor? It was a little before that, I guess." 

"I do remember," Asako replied, frowning as she stumbled slightly. "Something happened, and that thing was going to eat us...and then when I woke up again I saw--" She broke off, startled, glancing up at averted glowing eyes. "I saw _you_." 

"Yeah..." 

"But that was--" Asako's temper abruptly boiled when realization came. "That was _months_ ago! This has been going on for _that long_ and you haven't told anybody but Mayuko? You stupid, _stupid...baka...!_" 

"I didn't even want to tell Mayuko!" he shot back, his voice almost beginning to growl again. "I wasn't gonna tell _anybody!_ It was just an accident in the first place!" 

"You _idiot!_ How could you keep something like this--?" Anger made her lose her concentration, and willpower alone was what was keeping her feet moving. She stumbled as gravel roadside turned to sidewalk--somehow they'd reached the bottom of the hill, and the edges of suburbia lay just ahead--and Ushio all but threw down the umbrella to reach for her. He caught her, and she regained her balance against him--and for an instant they froze again, startled by the nearness. 

As quickly as she safely could, Asako stood up again...then looked up at the sky in disbelief. "The rain..." 

"Yeah...it sorta stopped." He picked up the lost umbrella and folded it, gazing up at the sky along with her. 

It was still drizzling fat drops here and there, but the majority of the downpour had ended, leaving them damp and bedraggled in the cool, cloudy night air. With the rain gone, thunder roiling only distantly, it was like a weight had lifted; one less thing to worry about. 

Asako looked back at him, then found herself startled to be looking at _him_, not just the glow of his eyes. The street lamp just down the road lit him dimly with a faint wash of color, allowing her to actually make out a little of his face. 

"What're _you_ looking at?" he grumbled. 

She realized she was staring and blinked, glancing down. "I just...I couldn't...really _see_ you before..." 

"I can sure see you. And you look like--" 

"I can imagine, thanks," she broke in, blushing faintly when the urge to keep staring at him wouldn't go away. "But it's not fair--you can see me but I can't see _you_." 

He gave her a look, indistinct in the dimness. "Not _fair--?_ Why do you--damn...aw, hell with it...you'll hafta see it sometime anyway..." 

She squeaked involuntarily when he grasped her by the wrist and pulled her along the sidewalk, marching resolutely toward the streetlight. Beneath the lamp, haloed by the faint lingering raindrops, he dropped her hand and stepped to the center of the light, whirling to face her. 

"_There_," he snapped, his voice rough with almost-anger and something she guessed could be--nervousness? "Stare all you want. Take a _good long_ look." 

She was too startled _not_ to look at first--and by the time she realized that her eyes were wide and staring at him again, she couldn't tear her gaze away. 

She could study it now--the face she'd only seen in lightning-moments of clarity. It was all feral lines--harsh planes, sharp angles, angry brows, and jutting jaws. His hand, gripping the haft of that legendary Spear--rawboned and long-fingered as always, but seemingly _more_ so now, set with thicker, sharper nails. His eyes, almost too large in his face, still brilliant even in the light--intense and acute, the color of amethysts, catlike ebony pupils splitting the violet and still contracting to slits even as she watched. His hair, silky wet and utterly straight, glimmering solid deep _black_--less like hair and more like a mane--and so _long_, an inky cascade down past his knees, unruly locks falling loose into his face. 

All different...but still somehow the same--as if everything that made up _Ushio_ had simply been remodeled into something _wild_, something predatory and savage; he quivered under her gaze as if he could hardly bear to stand still for her scrutiny, but the set of his jaw told her he was determined to see this through. He seemed rugged, untamed, rough...but there was an _elegance_ to him, too--a keen simplicity of form and almost fine-boned facial features blending into fierce, dangerous beauty, like a fey creature from a fairy tale. 

"You done yet?" he muttered crossly, the sudden petulant frown abruptly shifting the image from mythical being back to _Ushio_ again. Startled out of her thoughts, Asako took a step back, arms wrapped around herself, gathering the will to speak. 

"Uh...yes..." 

He snorted, red about the cheeks as he turned to lead the way onward, pausing to wait for her to regain her powers of movement. She followed obediently, uncharacteristically silent, trying to think of the right words to say. She knew somehow that if she said the _wrong_ thing...he would be terribly hurt. 

_What he looks like...he's different, but that doesn't matter. Baka Asako, he's still **Ushio** under there, right?_

"You look...kinda neat," she said rather suddenly, surprising herself with her honesty. 

He glanced back at her, almost startled. But the flash of relief in his eyes was hidden by a quick mask of indifference as he turned away again, giving a surly grunt in response. 

Asako glared briefly at the back of his head, upset at his grouchiness. "So what's your problem?" she demanded, limping a little faster to pull abreast of him. "What is it? You think you're ugly or something?" 

"I don't exactly spend a lot of time in front of mirrors like this," he gritted in reply. "But I know I'm enough of a freak that people flip out when they see me. Some jerks even called me a _monster_..." His voice trailed off with that same growl, and as his lips pulled back-- 

_Oh **God**..._ Asako paled and looked away, struck--she really should've expected _that_, too, but she hadn't; despite everything she'd been through, the sight of his teeth still shocked her. Long, white, sharp _fangs_, a whole mouthful of them, gleaming in the dimness of the streetlights... 

"What's your problem now?" 

His voice startled her, and she glanced up at him; those startling teeth were once more invisible behind his lips, though she imagined she could see the tips of his canines if she looked close enough--or maybe it wasn't her imagination... "Nothing." 

With another start, she realized they were going the wrong way. "Ushio...Ushio, wait--my house is _that_ way..." 

"I know," he replied, but kept walking. 

"But I have to go home! Where are we going?" Her leg _hurt_, and he was walking so fast--resolute, almost hurried. "Dammit--baka, what's the matter with you? Slow down, for God's sake! You jerk--!" 

Ushio glanced back at her, startling her to silence with those still-unfamiliar catlike eyes--but he slowed his pace, something chagrined behind his glare. "We're going to Mayuko's," he replied, looking away. "You've got _questions_, and I don't have time to answer you--I've got to go see what's up with that bakemono that jumped you. There might be more..." 

Asako gulped, imagining some _other_ innocent young girl getting attacked by another ugly brute like that, someone who _wasn't_ lucky enough to be best friends with a monster-hunter--as she had recently discovered that she was. 

"And besides," Ushio went on, his tone changing from impatience to faint embarassment, "you've got a lot of things you want to ask, and I'm no good at _talking_. Mayuko's better at it. She can explain it to you so you won't get mad. She knows nearly everything anyways." 

Asako scowled at him. "Are you sure you're not just passing the buck because you're afraid?" 

"_Who's_ afraid?" he snapped, his voice a rough snarl. It actually _frightened_ her when those inhuman violet eyes lit up from within, his lips pulling back over glistening fangs again--this time, all directed at _her_. It startled her so badly she stumbled and froze, her own eyes going impossibly wide. 

Then, just as abruptly as before, _Ushio_ replaced the dangerous creature next to her, suddenly upset and contrite--and just as suddenly, she remembered that it really _was_ him, her best friend, and she didn't have to be afraid--she _shouldn't_ be afraid. 

"_Shit!_ God, I'm sorry--dammit, I'm too friggin' used to that blockhead Tora always..." He trailed off as some of her color seemed to come back--and some of her anger as well. 

"You _baka!_ What are you snarling at _me_ for, huh?" She gathered momentum as a portion of her courage returned, though she swayed on her feet from her injuries. "Just because I want _you_ to tell me the truth? You don't have the right to put all this off on Mayuko's shoulders! It isn't fair--it's _your--!_" 

"Would you just shut up and _listen_, idiot?" Ushio interrupted, not snarling this time but still angry. "Look, this isn't about what's _fair_--my life _stopped_ being fair when I got stuck with this damn Spear!" He shook the aforementioned weapon with an angry jerk, making the strips of tattered red silk flutter limply. "This is about making sure _you_ stay alive. I'm taking you to Mayuko's, and _she'll_ patch you up and explain everything. Got it? _I_ have to go make sure there's not _more_ of those bastards out looking for you!" 

Asako stayed silent for long moments, flatly surprised by his sheer _authority_. This wasn't the Ushio she knew--not the argumentative, indecisive, thoughtless boy she'd grown up with, gone to school with, fought with. He sounded almost..._adult_...like somehow he'd grown older and she'd completely missed it... 

If he battled monsters every night like this, making life-or-death decisions, saving lives and fighting for his very existence...then she probably _had_ completely missed it. 

And, to her own irritation, she couldn't argue back at him any more. He was so _imposing_, and she was still just a little bit _afraid_ of him like this...so the words stuck in her throat and she couldn't force them out. Besides the fact that he made utter _sense_ for once, dammit--his plan of action was sound and logical, even if it wasn't what she wanted to do. She was the one on new ground, here; he had probably dealt with such situations many times--so she had to concede that he was _right_. 

"Fine," she muttered, dropping her eyes to the concrete. She would make it completely clear that she didn't _like_ his plan, whether he was right or not. Sometimes it was just a matter of _principle_. 

His little breath of relief didn't go unnoticed; clearly, he'd been expecting a bigger fight. But she was tired and hurting--and deep down, terrified--and she just wanted to go get warm and dry somewhere as quickly as possible. She started walking again, still limpling heavily, in the direction of Mayuko's home; without looking she could tell he was walking with her, right at her shoulder. 

They didn't say anything until they reached Mayuko's apartment building. 

Once there, and seeing things _not_ going according to plan once again, Asako had to speak up. "Ushio--Mayuko's place is--" 

"Sixth floor, I know," he replied, still heading for the alley between Mayuko's building and the next. 

"But...the door is--" 

"The lobby's locked by now, and besides, we'd wake her mom if we went that way." Ushio stopped at the back of the structure, craning his head to peer up into the cloudy darkness at something she couldn't make out. 

"Don't tell me we're climbing the drainpipe," Asako stated rather disgustedly. 

"Okay, we're not climbing the drainpipe," Ushio replied, glancing at her with just the _smallest_ hint of his old smile in the dim lights from the street. "C'mere." 

When he held out an arm and beckoned, warning lights began to flash in Asako's brain. She stood where she was, almost on the verge of backing away, some instinct cautioning her that he was up to yet another something that was going to shock her. And she had a feeling... 

The deer-in-the-headlights look must've been visible to him; he shook his head with a snort and began to walk toward her. She took a single step back, quickly throwing up her shield of anger. "Just what are you doing?" 

"Unless you really _want_ to climb the drainpipe yourself, I'm gonna hafta carry you up there," Ushio replied, stopping less than an arm's length away to lean on the Spear. He still looked a bit hesitant, but there was something almost shyly eager in the depths of his eyes. He was covering his own fear with teasing, and it was almost as if he wanted to _show_ her... "C'mon, don't tell me you're _scared_." 

_That_ was a challenge she had no choice but to rise to. "Who are you calling scared? Baka!" Giving him her most thunderous scowl possible under the circumstances, she took the last step, putting herself within range of his grasp--putting him in control. 

"I'm gonna pick you up now," he announced rather lamely, giving her fair warning. Still, she stiffened when he scooped her up as easily as if she were a child--one arm around her shoulders, the other under her knees, and the Spear tucked close at his side. 

"Just watch your hands, Aotsuki," Asako muttered, blushing, as she relaxed a bit in his grasp. It felt strange and new...but somehow _good_. Since they were close to the same size such a thing normally would've been nearly impossible, but he moved like she weighed nothing, striding back toward the building as smoothly as if she were no more than a doll. 

"Hold on," he said softly, causing her to reflexivly tighten her grip around his neck. "And don't strangle me either!" 

"How do you propose to climb up there and hold on to me at the same time?" Asako demanded, a little softer than she'd intended. 

"Stupid! Just let me worry about that," he replied shortly, looking upwards again. "I've done this a couple times before. Just...not with a passenger..." 

"Ushio...just what are you--?" 

"Here we go--oh...uh, try not to scream." 

"Whaddya mean, try not to screee_eeeaaaaah!_" 

In retrospect, it wasn't _really_ a scream. More like an involuntary cry of pure terror as the world suddenly dropped away in a rush of wind--and it was just too dark to see and it seemed like _everything_ disappeared all at once, everything but the cold sting of raindrops and the warmth of his arms-- 

--until with a light jostle, everything _stopped_. 

With her heart hammering in her throat, all she could do was gasp for breath and cling to him, suddenly shaking all over again. She gradually realized that it was darker than it should be because her eyes were screwed shut; she fluttered them open with an effort, only to see the paleness of the T-shirt her cheek was pressed against, and the arching shadow above that which was probably the curve of Ushio's throat--around which her arms were wrapped fairly tightly. 

"Idiot. Loosen up," he grumbled softly. "I won't drop you." 

They were bathed in faint golden light from some kind of lamp, and as Asako lifted her head a little to look around, she realized that the large sliding glass door ahead of them was the source of the light, which filtered out from behind the curtains. They were outside someone's balcony door. 

Then she glanced _down_--and gasped as vertigo suddenly flooded her. Ushio was perched squatting on the rail of the balcony, though which floor she could barely tell--the ground was so far away, and she got dizzy before she could count the floors below. At first, she was too scared by the height and the precariousness to think properly, but as her head began to clear and she began to realize that Ushio had simply _jumped_ up the side of a building... 

"Ready?" he whispered, keeping his voice down so as not to disturb whoever lived here. "Going up." 

_We're not **there** yet--?_ Her arms tightened again, and she found herself clinging much closer to him that she would've intended. She felt the tense and bunch of his muscles and braced herself--and then he _leaped_, but this time all she did was gasp as her breath was torn away by the wind. The inertia pressed her into his arms and she didn't resist it, holding her breath and holding him tight until the world stopped rushing and she felt him touch down again. 

He was crouched on another balcony, but this time he hopped down to the deck. This door was darkened, and nothing stirred within. 

When Ushio set her down, her knees wobbled like she'd just gotten off a wild amusement park ride. He kept a steadying hand on her shoulder as she regained her balance, the new influx of adrenaline making her head hurt and her bruises throb. She swayed like a drunkard as she walked with him to the sliding door. 

Without preamble, Ushio rapped on the glass with his knuckles. It was loud, and made her jump. "Come on, Mayuko..." he muttered impatiently, unconsciously supporting more and more of Asako's weight as she sagged from exhaustion. 

A second knock...and then a third. Finally, a dim light came on from within, and a sleepy face pulled the curtain aside to peer out. Mayuko's drowsy eyes caught sight of the two of them and sharpened instantly. There was a _click_, and then the door slid back--and Mayuko stood regarding her two best friends, her hands most uncharacteristically set on her hips. She took in Asako's battered, wearied condition, leaning against Ushio--looked over Ushio's transformed state and the Beast Spear held ready in his free hand; both of them were soaked and muddy and scratched, with the rain pattering down around them. She then pursed her lips, coming as close to _upset_ as Mayuko Inoue could ever look. 

"So," she began quietly, sternly, her eyes fixing Ushio with a steady, reproachful gaze. "I take it Asako found out. The _hard_ way." 

Despite the fierceness of his face, in the warm light of Mayuko's lamp Ushio somehow managed to look rather guilty. His eyes dropped, unable to meet her unwavering gaze, and he covered his feelings with ire and impatience. "Listen, Inoue, I don't have time for this. Asako got attacked and there might be more of those things out there. I need you to clean her up so I can go make sure nothing else is after her." 

"Yes, Tora said--" 

Asako scowled when Mayuko stopped, eyes flicking to her. "What?" she demanded. "More secrets, Mayuko? Ushio owes me an explanation, but he's leaving that to you." 

Mayuko sighed--a long-suffering sigh if she ever heard one, not that she'd ever expect one from _Mayuko_ of all people. "I figured as much. It's alright, Asako, I'll tell you all that I know." 

Asako flicked an annoyed glance at Ushio. "I'd much rather hear it from _him_--" 

"I haven't got all night!" Ushio growled, looking away from both of them. "Take her, Mayuko--she's barely standing up any more. And watch out, she's heavy." 

"Why you--!" Asako rounded on him for that, but Mayuko was already taking her other arm, steadying her as Ushio stepped away. With his warm presence gone from her side, Asako suddenly felt cold, almost lonely, and weak without him supporting her. Mayuko didn't feel so strong and so safe. 

"Stay alert," Ushio admonished them, his eyes flicking to Mayuko's again. "I'm pretty sure nothing would think to look at your house, but if there _is_ something out there after Asako, they might be able to track us here. I'll be back to check on you." 

"Be careful, Aotsuki-kun," Mayuko said softly. 

Asako didn't say anything. She was still caught somewhere between anger and the sudden worry that had sprung up at the thought of Ushio going out alone to face another thing like that. Even though he'd proven himself perfectly able to protect himself...it was still hard to think of him as anything but the ordinary schoolboy she'd always known. 

Suddenly, both Mayuko and Ushio looked straight up, toward the roof of the apartment building, as if there was some sound that only they could hear. Asako frowned, glancing between them, but she could hear nothing. 

"The cavalry's here," Ushio announced, barely glancing at her. "I'm going. You two watch your backs. Mayuko, I'm counting on you." 

"Don't worry, Aotsuki-kun," Mayuko replied, suddenly more cheerful than before, as if she could somehow reassure him by her brightness alone. "I'll take good care of her!" 

Asako was watching him the entire time, but when Ushio glanced at her she caught something softening in that brilliant violet gaze, something that glimmered when his eyes met hers--and it wasn't just that eerie night-glow. She caught her breath, speechless for a moment at what she saw. 

He was on the balcony rail in one hop, gathering for a leap, his eyes turned upwards to something beyond her sight. "Ushio--" she called out, whispery-breathless--but he was already launching himself skyward in a dark blur, vanishing from her sight. 

For a moment, there was silence. Then Mayuko took a deep breath and spoke. "Well, they're off. Don't worry about him, Asako. Tora-chan will always look after him when they're out doing dangerous things. Come on, I've got to get you cleaned up and warm or Ushio will be mad--" 

"I want to hear everything, Mayuko," Asako broke in in a low, quiet voice. "_Everything_. From beginning to end--and don't hide anything from me." 

Mayuko nodded solemnly, helping her friend back into the house and sliding the door shut behind them. "I understand. Let's get you out of those clothes, and I'll tell you everything I know." 

* * * * *

Ushio made the edge of the roof in a single bound, grasping the top of the rim and using his momentum to flip himself over and land on the level tiles, crouched and ready. 

"About time, Brat!" Tora growled, suddenly standing over him, looming in the darkness. 

"What's going on?" Ushio demanded, standing upright. "Why'd you come here?" 

"The priest left the Shrine right after you did," Tora bit out tersely. "He went after that shadow-bastard. Something's happening--I can't tell what, but it isn't good." 

"_Oyaji_ went--?" Ushio's teeth were bared in an angry, disbelieving grimace. "What the hell is _he_ doing going after a thing like that? Why's he even after a monster in the first place? Dammit--!" 

"Save it! Let's move, Brat!" 

Ushio didn't spare another breath, vaulting to Tora's back as the bakemono lifted from the roof. In an instant the two of them were streaking across the sky, heading for the place where they could both sense a black smudge of power and the raw essence of conflict. 

  
_To be continued..._

  



	9. Desolation

((DISCLAIMER: I don't own Ushio, Tora, or any of the other wonderful characters of the Ushio & Tora universe--they all belong to Kazuhiro Fujito himself. Original characters created here _do_ belong to me, so please don't take them without permission!)) 

  
  
  
**Secret of the Beast Spear**   
_by Becky Tailweaver_

  
**Chapter 9: Desolation**

"What's Oyaji doing hunting a monster in the first place?" Ushio demanded, half to himself, as he and Tora flew rapidly over the city. The rain had worsened since they left Mayuko's, and now it pounded into Ushio's face and spat in his eyes, forcing him to squint. The thunder was gone, but now the clouds had truly begun to open up into a real downpour. 

"The priest's involved in something, Brat," Tora grumbled in reply, barely audible over the hiss of rain. "I watched him take out ofuda marked with seals even I have not seen in all my time." 

"But...why wouldn't he say something? And what kind of _thing_ could he be involved in?" Ushio scowled, ducking closer to Tora's thick mane to try and shield his face from the pouring rain. "If he was someone like that Hyou guy, maybe, but--" 

"Even the bakemono have tales of human groups who hunt them," Tora snapped. "You think the Spearbearer is the only campfire story the lesser scum frighten their spawn with?" 

"Well, I..." He did, really, but he had to admit that it was supremely arrogant--and ignorant. "I didn't know, okay? Are we there yet?" 

"Keep your shirt on," the orange bakemono growled, beginning a rapid arc of descent toward the outskirts of town, in an area remarkably close to the Aotsuki Shrine. "The battle may well be over--I can't tell if the shadow-bastard is near." 

"I sure hope Oyaji kicked his ass," Ushio muttered, with confidence he didn't feel. Something like that shadow...could his father handle a monster like that? But if Shigure was involved with something as Tora said, and had powers like Hyou... 

"I smell...foreign beast," Tora snarled deeply, obviously miffed at the intrusion into what he considered his territory. "Heh..._dead_ foreign beast. Probably the priest's work." They drifted low over a warehouse, both squinting through the downpour with night-seeing eyes. 

"I can't hear anything," Ushio said after a moment. "I thought you said there was a battle going on!" 

"There _was_, stupid Brat," Tora shot back. "But there's obviously not one now, and if the blasted priest handled the shadow then--" The bakemono broke off with startling finality, maned head coming up as he swooped across the street. "_Shit_. Blood." 

"_What?_" 

"I smell human blood." 

Ushio's own blood froze to ice in his veins. "Where? Dammit, Tora--_where?_" 

"There!" The bakemono was speeding up, heading for the fence on the far side of the street. 

Ushio didn't wait. He sprang from the orange monster's shoulders, using Tora's flight thrust as a springboard to hurtle himself to the top of the tall, sagging wooden fence around the empty lot. He crouched there and peered through the rain as Tora caught up, and now Ushio could smell the strange monster, could sense the fleeting echo of powers used here. And, through the rain and mud and monster-smells, he caught the thick, sweet scent of human blood. 

Wide eyes flicked over the lot, catching sight of the unmoving form sitting against the far fence at the same moment Tora did. The bakemono spat an unintelligible curse, but Ushio was already diving off the fence, sprinting across the yard with a desperate cry. 

"_**Oyajiiiiiiii!!!**_" 

* * * * *

There was a howl that called him, its tones half desperate child and half stricken animal. 

Then he recognized it. 

When Shigure dimly heard the voice of his son calling for him, he thanked the heavens for answering his last prayer. As the sound beckoned him from semi-consciousness, he began to force open his eyes, attempting to focus on the blurry dark shape above him as raindrops fell heavily on his face. 

Shigure Aotsuki opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face with the Spearbearer of legend. 

_Dear God, the stories are true..._

And yet, in the same instant, he knew it was his son. 

It was Ushio's face, changed and unchanged; his son's eyes, the same and yet not. Rife with expression--anguish, shock, grief, fear--in a way he knew so well, speaking to him in a voice he would recognize anywhere. 

"Oyaji? _Oyaji!_ Can you hear me? Oh _God...!_ Oyaji please--!" 

He didn't think he had the breath left to speak, but somehow it was there. "Ushio..." 

"Oyaji! What happened--what the hell've you been doing out here?" Anguished relief spread thinly across the boy's altered features, washing away some of the crinkles of worry. 

"My job," he replied, smiling faintly, wryly, but without the strength to chuckle. "Ushio, this is...are you...?" 

He saw his son's throat bob in a swallow; lambent eyes lowered, flicked away, then returned to his own. "It's nothing, Oyaji--don't worry about it. I'm fine, it's just what the Spear _does_..." 

Shigure's eyes fell to the gleaming object in his son's hand, low beside him where he crouched in the mud. "The Beast Spear...!" 

Ushio set the Spear down beside them, shaking his head and pushing back long wet tresses, reaching forward. "Not now--I'll tell you everything later--right now you need help; let me look at your wounds--" 

Weakly, Shigure caught the boy's wrist, his other hand pulling ever closer the torn flap of his robe. It was the only thing that hid the extent of his injuries, sticky-slick with half-dried blood and sodden from the pouring rain. He had covered his torn body with it before, as he'd drawn himself up to sit against the fence, and had no intention of revealing anything now--it wasn't something his son needed to see. 

"Don't bother, boy," he grunted softly, just the effort of moving proving to be too much. "It's too late for me anyway...just listen..." 

"Oyaji, _no_--" Ushio shook his head again, more firmly. He pressed forward, breaking Shigure's frail grip. "Just let me help you! Shit, you think I want to let you bleed to death out here? I could smell your blood clear across the lot, for God's sake--!" 

"Boy!" Shigure's voice hissed out, a shadow of its former authority but still enough to make the youth flinch to a stop. "Boy...let it go." 

"Oyaji...!" 

"The priest is right," spoke another voice then, pulling Shigure's attention further beyond his son--a deep, growling voice full of steel and danger, but somehow he didn't fear it at all. Another shape moved closer, coming into focus over Ushio's shoulder--a massive, long-maned form with a broad, striped face and huge, narrowed silver eyes that shone in the rainy night. "The wound is mortal; he has lost too much life already." 

Ushio whirled to him, face stricken. "But...Tora...!" 

"You..." Shigure found himself smiling. The appearance of this newcomer was unfamiliar, but the sense of his presence was not. "You're the one who's been haunting about the Shrine...these past few moons. You're the bakemono our ancestor...pinned to the stone..." His chuckle came out as a single faint cough. "What...an odd face you have..." 

"Odd--!" the great bakemono snorted, eyes wide as if surprised, or offended. 

"Never mind him, Oyaji!" Ushio broke in, still desperate. "I've got to get you to a hospital...somehow...! I've gotta do _something_... Tora, will you help me carry him? Just as far as the emergency room--I won't ask any more--!" 

The bakemono looked supremely startled at the boy's request--startled and hesitant. Ushio had put Tora in the uncomfortable position of attempting to refuse, for it would do no good. 

"Ushio," Shigure spoke up, drawing the attention of both. "Just listen, boy. The one I fought...a shadow-demon, Magan...controls many creatures...beware..." He ran out of breath, unable to continue, but the bakemono's gleaming eyes met his--unwavering, measuring. 

"You fought the shadow, priest?" Tora asked, one eyebrow raised in grudging respect. 

Shigure managed another breath. "I am...a monk of the Order. My duty...my vow...destroy monsters, destroy evil..." 

"Baka Oyaji!" Ushio choked. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? What were you thinking, fighting bakemono alone...?" 

Shigure was silent for long moments, gathering the strength to continue. One hand slipped from his chest to reach for Ushio's where it clenched in the mud, gripping it weakly. "Boy...thus far I've kept them from you...but should they discover the Spear...the Order will try to control you--as they have me...for so long. Even now they want you...for your mother's power..." He choked, sucked in a ragged gasp. "You can't let them know!" 

"Oyaji..._why?_" The boy's face was confused, aggrieved, bleak. 

_Poor child...I just haven't enough time, nor strength...!_ "You have to go," he rapsed faintly, feeling his strength flooding away like an upturned bowl of water. "Leave me here...go home..." 

"_No!_" Now the boy looked stricken, tears welling in his lambent eyes. "How could you say that? Baka Oyaji--!" 

"Brat!" the bakemono snapped. "There's humans coming!" 

Ushio glanced away, and gradually Shigure became aware of what the other two picked up--the sound of sirens, of voices, loud and piercing through the rain. 

"Shit! Help me, Tora! We've got to get him over to--" 

"Shut up and listen to him, stupid Brat!" the bakemono snarled back. "He's already dying! Those stupid humans are going to come here and ask stupid questions--do as he says, or they'll think _you_ killed him!" 

Ushio's voice became a roar of anger. "_Tora!_ How could they say--?" 

"_Think_, meat-for-brains!" the bakemono snapped, right in the boy's face. "You don't look like _you_--you're a stranger with a deadly weapon standing over a dying man who's been sliced open! Humans are stupid and jump to conclusions! What do you _think_ will happen?" 

Ushio deflated like a pitiful balloon. "No..._no_..." 

"Ushio...please, go..." Shigure whispered. "I can't...put you in danger...you must be innocent...ignorant...in this matter..." The racket of approaching humans was getting closer. Even his foggy ears could hear it clearly now. 

"No...Oyaji, don't ask me to..." Ushio's voice broke as tears fell, sobs began. His voice shrilled in soft, frantic entreaty as he hugged his father like a pleading child, face pressed to the older man's neck. "No, no...please, don't go--don't die now....don't die, don't die--I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of it, I'm sorry for _everything_--oh please don't die..._please_, Tousan don't die, don't leave me...!" 

For the first time, Shigure felt a sense of desperation well up in his own heart--a desperate will to _live_, to stay here with his beloved child, to hold the boy close with all his strength and make the tears go away. But it quickly faded, crushed by the bitter knowledge that his life was over; already he was living on borrowed time. Shigure's own eyes welled as he reached up with one trembling hand to run near-nerveless fingers over his son's soft wet hair, down to caress the youth's tear-damp cheek. 

"My boy...." Shigure whispered, breathless. "_My boy_..." _My beautiful boy...so like your mother...especially now--those eyes... My son, I was wrong; it hasn't changed you at all--you're still so kind and sweet, like **her**...I wish I had the time to tell you everything..._

He managed a smile when Ushio looked into his eyes, shaking with sobs. It took all the breath he had left to speak again, even pulling the strength from his arm and dropping it back to his chest. "My boy...love you...my son..." 

"Tousan _no_--" 

"Go..." 

"_No!_" 

"Brat, we must leave _now!_" 

Shigure's body felt cold, numb. He couldn't move now--not for anything. But he could still look into his son's desperate eyes, still feel remorse and regret. _She'd be so proud...I wish she could see this boy we made. I should've told her--should've told **him**...now he'll be alone, he doesn't know--she'll never forgive me for abandoning him like this, with nowhere to go..._

He couldn't move, but somehow his lungs still drew breath. "Go...you must go!" 

"_Brat--!_" 

"_No--**no!**_" Ushio shook his head in frantic denial, even as the flashing lights began to illuminate the lot. 

Shigure's eyes met Tora's, earnest and pleading. "Tora-dono..." the dying priest rasped, finding the strength to speak once more. "Take him...take care of him...!" 

For one eternal moment their gazes locked, man and bakemono. Some silent understanding passed between them, filling that agonizing instant. Then Tora moved forward, silver eyes flat with purpose. 

Ushio let out a frantic yell as Tora scooped up both him and the Spear, trapping him against the bakemono's unyielding body in the crook of one muscular arm. The boy fought wildly, but Tora's arm was like steel and the bakemono began to pull him away, lifting from the muddy ground to drift toward the forest, picking up altitude and speed. 

Shigure could barely watch them go as his vision dimmed, hearing Ushio's grief-stricken screams of protest fading into the sky as Tora bore the boy away from the danger of discovery. He wished again that he could stay but, knowing that was impossible, prayed instead for comfort for his son. Prayed that there was some way Ushio could find home and family and love now that he was alone. 

He couldn't hear the sirens any more, couldn't see the clouds; all he could feel was the cold rain on his face, and even that was gradually washing away in the darkness that surrounded him like a coccoon. _My boy, I'm sorry..._ Even to the end, he had only one thought as the last of his life faded. 

_My dearest, precious son..._

When the emergency teams, paramedics, and police officers at last swarmed the scene, moments after Ushio was borne away, all they found was the body of a middle-aged monk bearing a calm, saddened expression. Some of the medics scratched their heads as they began their examinations; the deceased had been shedding tears right up until death, despite the tranquil expression on his face. 

Little did they know, those were not tears of grief for his own death--they were tears of love and remorse for the son he'd left behind. 

* * * * *

On a hillside above the city, far away, an ancient mist-gray monster lowered his head, silently mourning the passing of yet another of those he watched over. He also grieved deeply for the sorrow of the little hunter, sensing faint echoes of the young one's pain. 

_Hold fast, little Yin-Liao; I am with you. Be brave and strong as I know you are...for now you are the last..._

* * * * *

Ushio fought and kicked the entire way, screaming obscenities at Tora through his sobs, demanding to be released. Tora ignored his protests and did nothing more in retaliation than tighten his grip on the youth to avoid further injury or potential escape. Crazed by grief and rage, the maddened Spearbearer had kicked hard enough to bruise, struggled with surprising strength, and even bitten Tora's arm deep enough to draw blood. 

Silent and implacable, Tora carried the boy all the way back up the deep, forested hill, heading for the Aotsuki Shrine. Tora was no samurai, nor even remotely knowledgeable of human codes of honor, but the old priest had made a dying request of him, and for some reason almost beyond his comprehension, the bakemono felt obligated to carry it out. 

When Tora reached the road and flew over the Aotsuki compound's wall, he swooped straight for the main Shrine building and pulled in to land on the front porch, sheltered from the rain. At last his grip on the Spearbearer was relinquished; released, boy and Spear clattered to the wooden deck in a heap. 

In an instant, Ushio was on his feet, the Spear in his hand as if teleported there; in another instant, the Spearbearer was dashing mindlessly out into the rain, intent on returning to his father's side--when a giant orange hand clamped into his long thick hair and dragged him back, slamming him against the Shrine's front door. 

Ushio didn't even waste time with words, just a cry of rage. The Spear was up and swinging before he had finished rebounding from the wood, forcing Tora to duck back with a threatening snarl. The boy's eyes were flaming with anger and pain, blank with shock and grief; screaming mindlessly, he attacked the bakemono as though trying to kill his own agony. 

Tora was more startled at his reaction than anything else; he'd never seen the Brat so inarticulately enraged. He'd luckily dodged the razor-sharp blade--but again it seemed he'd forgotten about the other end. Completing his whirl, Ushio brought the butt end of the Beast Spear around, catching Tora in the shoulder hard enough to knock the bakemono into one of the porch posts, nearly cracking it. 

That _hurt_. Now, Tora was _angry_. 

Still howling in anguished rage, Ushio came at him again. Unlike times before, the youth's attack was wild, utterly _clumsy_--less that of the legendary Spearbearer and more like the last thrashing of a wounded animal. Ushio was stumbling over his own feet as he charged, the Spear swinging in a wide, ill-aimed arc, easy for Tora to evade even in the close space of the Shrine's porch. 

Even so, it angered Tora further that the stupid little human would turn on him so. "_Dammit, Brat--!_" 

Before Ushio could attack again, Tora sprang forward, his right arm thrust out to strike the not-quite-human boy. So massive was the bakemono's outstretched hand that it spread across most of the youth's chest, hitting with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs and drive him over backwards. Tora came down on him like a cat on a mouse, one broad hand flat against his chest, slamming him hard to the wooden surface of the porch. The Spear was lost on the first impact, clattering away against the building wall, lying still and unresponsive as Ushio struggled under Tora's great paw. 

Ushio gripped Tora's thick wrist with enough force that his own sharpened claw-nails threatened to pierce the furred skin. Tora's own hand was rigid, the edges of razor-sharp claws slicing through Ushio's shirt and drawing thin lines of blood on the flesh beneath--wounds the boy refused to heed while his struggles only worsened the cuts. Teeth bared, Ushio glared up at the massive beast crouched over him, growling and sobbing in anguished rage all at once, sounds that quickly shifted to helpless, snarling wails as Tora's powerful arm refused to budge. 

"_Why? Why? **Why?**_" was all he could sob, over and over. 

Silent, Tora let him thrash, let him wear himself out with futile struggles. There was no way the Brat could escape him like this; this time, _he_ had won. He merely pressed down, holding the boy to the deck, trapping the Brat's legs with his knee. In time, Ushio's fighting would tire him enough that he would no longer be a threat, free or not. Tora leaned over him and waited, staring down at the youth's grief-stricken face as snarling demands turned to frustrated sobs of rage and anguish. 

"_Why_, Tora, _**why?**_ You bastard--I could've _saved_ him--damn you--_damn you--!_" Gasping, Ushio was already losing the strength to fight against Tora's restraint, already weakened by battle and loss and sorrow. 

"Shut up and listen to me!" the bakemono snapped, feeling the boy jerk under his hand at the abruptness of his voice. Tora lowered his volume, barely softened his tone; strangely, he almost sounded as though he were speaking to an upset child. "Stop it! Stop your wailing, Brat! _Listen!_" 

When Ushio's accusations faded to gritted teeth and swallowed sobs, Tora leaned closer to speak snarling, steely words. "He's _dead_. Do you hear me? _The priest is dead_." 

The youth's body flinched with every slow, punctuated word of his last sentence. 

"He was already dying when we found him!" Tora continued, baring long white fangs. "Stupid, _stupid_ Brat--even _you_ should be able to tell that! There was nothing you or I could have done--if there was, don't you think I would've tried? Idiot!" 

"Dammit, the ambulance--they could've found him sooner--I could've saved--!" 

"_Stop it!_" Tora's snarl echoed over the yard. "Only a _miracle_ would've saved that old man! Couldn't you _tell?_ That shadow-bastard ripped him almost in half! Stop blaming me--stop blaming _yourself!_ Start blaming the bastard who _killed_ him!" 

Ushio could no longer swallow the sobs stacking up in his throat. They bubbled up, blurring his eyes and choking him once more. "But I...I couldn't just..." he croaked. 

"I know you grieve, Brat." Tora's voice had stilled to a near-whisper. "There are few sorrows like the death of close kin. Even I know this. But even so, I cannot offer you platitudes of the afterlife or pretty words of comfort. I cannot offer you a guarantee that all will be well and you will live on as you have before. I cannot offer you tears or sympathy or compassion. But I _can_ offer you the hope of revenge. I _can_ give you my word on this alone: I will be at your side as we hunt down that shadow-bastard, the one called Magan--and I will be at your side when you pay him back in blood for the death of your sire." 

Ushio stared at him silently, tears streaming, so many emotions flooding and buffeting him that he had no idea how to deal with all of them. He was lost in the backwash of fading rage, deep grief, vanished denial, and heartrending pain; all he could do was lie still in Tora's grasp, helpless and weakened. 

Tora watched him, eyes narrrowed, alert to the boy's reactions. Weaponless and pinned, the Brat was as helpless as a newborn cub, lacking the strength and weight to resist him. The mighty Spearbearer was laid low by grief, turned into nothing more than a strange, inhuman human child. Such a little thing he was; Tora had never come close enough to see him like this, not even when he was sleeping. So puny and frail beneath his claws; a little more weight could crush the boy's ribs, a flex of his hand could slice the small body to pieces. 

Tora blinked, going still as a sliver of realization slid sharply into place. 

He had the Spearbearer of legend at his mercy. 

But...so _strange_...he had the boy right there in his claws, and yet...he felt no desire to kill him. None at all. Merely impatience, exasperation...and perhaps... 

Perhaps he had lied. Perhaps he _did_ feel pity for the Brat after all. 

He still didn't know what had posessed him to honor the priest's dying request; having a natural aversion to monks and such, he'd avoided the old man for the most part but had found him to be an intelligent sort for a human, if sardonic and cantankerous--no worse than Tora himself, but as far as doing a favor for him...honestly, he didn't even _know_ the old priest. 

Perhaps it was true after all--perhaps he did feel sorry for the stupid little Brat. He honored the father for the sake of the son. 

So why did he only feel pity for this helpless child he'd easily pinned to the porch with just one hand? Why didn't he feel the slightest inclination to eat him and have done with it? Just because he felt _sorry_ for the little human... 

After long moments of gazing down at the boy, trying to sort through his own thoughts, his face crinkled in a brief snarl and he snorted disgustedly. Growling low in his throat, he cautiously drew back, at last lifting his heavy hand from Ushio's chest. He stood motionless on the porch as the youth rolled over. 

Ushio managed to pull himself into an unbalanced crouch, far too shaken for the Spearbearer's usual collected grace. Lambent violet eyes stared out at Tora from a shadowed face, through a tangled curtain of long black hair that flowed every which way; it was limp and sodden from the mud and the rain yet seemed to envelop him like a black spiderweb, snarled thickly about him from the tumble to the deck. 

Tora gazed at him through narrowed silver eyes, betraying nothing of his thoughts as tense seconds ticked by. The Brat was just a small huddled shape, damp and bedraggled, crouched in the rain-gray shadows of the Shrine's porch, not quite man nor monster; the glowing catlike eyes of a bakemono stared out at him with all the fear and grief and anger of a lost and hurting young boy. 

The Brat's face was wet with tears, not rain; the salty droplets seemed to catch tiny fractals of light from his dimly glowing eyes and carry them down his cheeks to disappear into the tangles of his hair. They shared the light with the gleam of his fangs, bared in a grimace of effort as the boy strove to keep from breaking down again. He was trembling, both from emotion and weakness; he'd fought Tora's grip to the point of exhaustion, and his limbs shook visibly. 

Tora saw the boy's gaze flick to the Spear for but an instant and rumbled softly in warning, stepping forward, his eyes never leaving Ushio's. But the Brat didn't make a move for his weapon; rather, he stood shakily on two legs once more, head lowered until Tora couldn't see his eyes through the thick fall of black mane. Ushio's hands were fisted tight despite how hard he trembled, and a strange sound came up from the his throat, hissing through clenched fangs--a rattling noise half choked growl, half broken sob. 

Then there was silence for so long Tora began to wonder what was wrong with the Brat. If there was one thing he knew about Ushio, it was that he was _never_ this silent--not for long. If this caused another row between them... 

When Ushio finally spoke again, Tora _almost_ started. 

"He's...really gone..." Almost a question, like a child waking from a dream and wondering if it was real. "_He's gone_..." 

"He's dead," Tora said simply, bluntly. 

"I'll kill that...that..." The boy took a step, stumbled, and caught himself with one hand braced against the Shrine wall. His expression was still half-hidden behind a curtain of sodden hair, and Tora couldn't even begin to read it; all he could see was the gleam of fangs as the Brat shook. "The shadow--I'll _kill_ him..." 

Ushio tried to move again but his muscles were giving out; he attempted to push away from the wall but his legs were so unsteady that they almost buckled. He reached to pick up the Spear and overbalanced, scrabbling to brace on the wall but only stumbling further off course, toppling headfirst toward Tora--only to jerk to a stop when the bakemono reflexively caught him by a handful of hair and shirt like the scruff of a kitten. 

"Leave it, Brat," Tora growled when Ushio's eyes flashed dangerously wild with instinctive response. "You'll do nothing now." 

Again, bared fangs and a short hiss of breath, frustration and anger. Ushio's eyes screwed closed as he fought down his own emotions--a losing battle, too great a tide to overcome. "Nothing...but kill..." 

Snarling silently in irritation, Tora brought the boy's face closer to his own, eliciting a glance of faint alarm. "Brat." His voice was all rumbling steel, utterly resolute. "There is nothing we _can_ do right now." That said, he slowly lowered the boy to the deck in front of him. 

With his legs no longer able to hold him, Ushio went to his knees as the bakemono's support was taken away. "But...Tora..." his hissing breaths grew harsher and harsher until that choked, rattling sound came from him again. "It's Oyaji...he's my tousan...and he's _gone_..." No more words would come; his voice broke into deep, wracking sobs. 

"Brat..." Tora caught himself letting out a breath of relief. No more mindless rage, no more violent anguish--just pure grief and cleansing tears. 

Ushio went half-limp as he cried, unthinkingly resting against the crouched bakemono's arm. Unthinkingly--desperately, because there was no one else, no other source of warmth or solace. Unable to flee to seclusion, unable to leave this one friendly presence, he buried his face in Tora's rough fur and sobbed. 

Tora ignored the potential offense; for some reason, right now it didn't bother him. As he released his grip on the Brat's shirt, his massive hand lingered a moment on the trembling shoulders. He only growled softly, not moving either to pull away or to shake the Brat off. 

The night was quiet. There was only the bubbling, hissing patter of pouring rain filling the yard, almost drowning out the low rumble of a bakemono and the weeping of an inconsolable boy. 

  
_To be continued..._

  



End file.
